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MAGDALEN 

THE ENCHANTEESS. 


(^ounditd 0n 


/rvw>- 

By E. L. 




Our witches are no longer old 
And wrinkled beldames, Satan-sold, 

But young and gay and laughing creatures, 

J. G. Whittier. 


If Heaven will take 


A heart that earth has crush’d, form it anew, 
And light it from on high, I offer mine, — 

Not without shame that all things else were tried 
Before the only balm. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
^ 1858 . 


J 








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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern 
District of Pennsylvania. 

STEREOTTPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 

PHILADELPHIA. 


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TO 

J0a«^hint[ J0n{t8, . 

THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED WITH THE SINCERE REGARDS OF 


E. L. L 






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PEEFACE. 


Mant of the old citizens of Georgetown and 
Washington will remember the incidents upon 
which this story is founded, and at once re- 
cognise the Magdalen of these pages in the 
still beautiful woman who yet resides in the 
last-named city. But the stranger who meets 
her (for she still mingles in the most refined 
and intellectual circles of Washington society) 
little dreams that hers has been a life of thrill- 
ing romance; nor would he realize that one 
gentle and womanly as she is now had once 
been so wayward and imperious. 

E. L. L. 


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4 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTEESS. 


CHAPTEE 1. 

“ No love is like a sister’s love, 

Unselfish, free, and pure, 

A flame that, lighted from above. 

Will guide but ne’er allure. 

It knows no frown of jealous fear. 

No flush of conscious guile ; 

Its wrongs are pardon’d through a tear. 

Its hopes crown’d by a smile.” 

Two noble boys and a lovely little girl wandered 
listlessly about a large and beautiful room. Every 
thing that could amuse childhood was there; yet 
they were restless and impatient. 

“ Oh, Grace,” broke forth the younger boy, “ why 
don’t Aunt Bell come ?” 

“ Wait a few minutes and she will be here. Be 
patient, Fred.” 

‘‘ There ! she is coming now,” exclaimed Clarence. 

The door opened, and the nurse. Aunt Bell, en- 
tered the nursery with an air of mingled mystery 
and importance, and deposited a bundle of em- 

7 


8 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


broidered flannel in the beautiful cradle that stood 
in the centre of the room. She then turned down 
the fine shawl and exposed to the gaze of the won- 
dering group of children a tiny babe. A sweet 
smile flitted over the face of the innocent sleeper as 
Grace bent down to imprint a kiss upon its soft 
round cheek. 

“ Oh, Aunt Bell, what is it?” cried Fred. “What 
a funny little thing !” 

“Hush, hush, Freddy!” whispered Clarence; “it is 
an angel, — an angel to lead us to heaven. Don’t you 
remember that mamma told us we had guardian 
angels? and this is surely ours.” 

“Yes, I remember,” answered the child; “and 
mamma told me if I did any thing naughty my 
angel would cry so,” and he placed his hand over 
his eyes and averted his face. “J will be good, for 
I don’t want my angel to cry, but always smile like 
that : see 1” 

Again the beautiful smile swept across the features 
of the sleeping babe, causing the children to hold 
their breath lest the fair vision should vanish from 
their sight. 

“Angels have wings,” said Grace, with an arch 
smile. 

Fred’s face clouded, but in a moment it lightened 
with a triumphant expression, and he exclaimed, — 

“ Yes, but this angel’s wings are covered up.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


9 


Aunt Bell, who had been looking on silently, now 
spoke : — 

“ Hush, chil’n, ’ta’n’t no angel, only a poor, little 
unfortinate, born to sin and to suffer, to live and to 
die, just like all creeters, black and white. ■N'o, 
honeys, ’ta’n’t no angel ; but whenever it smiles so 
purty the angels is whisperin’ to it. The good God 
sent it to be your little sister. That little thing never 
’mitted no sin. Well, chil’n, you must all be like 
that little child when you die, — in de sperrit, I 
mean, — no sin on your conscience; and then you 
can smile too. Mind, chil’n, if you’s like that lit- 
tle innocent you will go to the good place, for the 
blessed Saviour says, ‘ Of such is the kingdom of 
heaven.’ ” 

It was a beautiful picture ! The grand old room, 
made cheerful by the bright sunlight and elegant 
furniture; the lovely babe, its dark head resting 
peacefully on the snowy pillow; the black nurse, 
speaking so earnestly and impressively to her youth- 
ful charges, whilst in her manner was mingled the 
respect of a servant with the tenderness of a mother. 
The children stood gazing on the babe, listening 
attentively to their much-loved nurse, and profiting 
by her humble yet earnest teaching. 

“I must go now,” said Aunt Bell, “but I’ll be 
back to give you your breakfast in a minute.” 

Again Grace bent her head to kiss the soft little 


10 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

cheek. Her golden ringlets rested on the babe’s 
face, but it still slept ; and Aunt Bell bore it from 
the room, leaving the children to talk wonderingly 
and lovingly of the little stranger. 

The scene above described was witnessed by Mr. 
Richmond, who bad entered unperceived. 

“ Come hither, Sunbeam,” he called to Grace, who 
still stood beside the cradle whence her sister had 
been taken. She had unconsciously assumed an 
attitude carelessly graceful. Her right foot slightly 
advanced, her head gently inclined, one hand resting 
on her bosom, with the other she had swept the 
bright curls from her fair brow. The heavily-- 
fringed lids veiled the earnest eyes, and the slight 
form was motionless as a statue. 

The father gazed on his beautiful daughter with 
pardonable pride. 

‘‘Hey, Star-Queen! dreaming again?” 

So absorbed was she that the first call had not 
been heard ; but now she looked up with a startled 
light in her blue eyes. The next instant she sprang 
to his side, with a clear, ringing laugh, and buried 
her tiny white hand in his dark hair. 

“Papa, I was dreaming; and, oh, you frightened 
me so !” 

“Did I, love? Well, of what were you dream- 
ing?” 

“ Of my sister’s future, papa.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


11 


“I suppose you saw nothing but sunshine in the 
future of your fragile little sister?” said Mr. Eich- 
mond, smiling. n I , 

“ I saw her bright and beautiful and good,” an- 
swered Grace, returning his smile. 

Mr. Eichmond kissed her fondly, then con- 
tinued : — 

“Now for a name, pet.” 

“ Oh, pa, may I give her a name ?” cried Grace. 

“Yes, Star-Queen. But a pretty name, remem- 
ber.” 

“ Let me call her Love.” 

'“ A strange name ! What put it into your head?” 

“ I don’t know : it was just there,” answered Grace, 
naively. 

And so the babe was called Love. 

Grace almost idolized Love, and she would sit 
for hours watching the changeful face of her sister. 
She craved no greater happiness than to be allowed 
to cradle Love in her arms; and, if the babe 
chanced to raise its soft, dark eyes to hers and 
smile, she would laugh merrily in childish glee. 
She was the guardian angel of the little creature 
during the first five years of her childhood, ever 
watching over her with tenderest care. And 
Grace felt amply repaid by the clinging love of 
her timid, wayward little sister. Grace was of a 
gay, cheerful, equal temperament: Love, even in 


12 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


her young childhood, was wilful and capricious. 
There was something in the child’s face that im- 
pressed one with the idea hers would be a life 
over which many a dark wave of sorrow would 
dash. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

Weep not for those 
Who sink within the arms of death 
Ere yet the chilling wintry breath 
Of sorrow o’er them blows ; 

But weep for them who here remain, 

The mortal heritors of pain, 

Condemn’d to see each bright joy fade. 

And mark grief’s melancholy shade 

Flung o’er Hope’s fairest rose. — Mrs. Embury. 


On a snowy-draped, flower-strewn bier lies the 
motionless form of the second son of the house, 
noble, high-hearted little Fred. At length the hour 
for burial has arrived, and, one after another, relatives 
and friends pressed a last kiss on the white fore- 
head. 

Grace bent weepingly over her brother and kissed 
the cold brow repeatedly. But when Love was 
raised from the floor and bade to kiss Fred she 
smilingly clutched at the flowers instead. But 
when the little creature, in obedience to Grace’s 
low, “Kiss Freddy, Love,” touched the pale lips, 
she drew back and hid her face on her sister’s 
shoulder, and whispered, shudderingly, — 

“Oh, Grace, they’re so cold !” 

2 


14 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

When the coffin was lowered and they com- 
menced filling the grave, Love again clung timidly 
to Grace, and cried, — 

“ I don't want to die and be put in the ground ! 
and I won’t ! I won’t !” 

The child was evidently impressed with all the 
darkness and deformity of the burial of the casket, 
not realizing that the far more beautiful jewel had 
been transferred to the crown of the Eternal Sove- 
reign of Heaven and Earth. 

In a few days Grace had recovered her usual 
buoyancy of spirits; but a cloud still shadowed 
Love’s sweet face and darkened her eyes. 

Years after, while her sister slept peacefully on 
her pillow. Love, upon closing her eyes, would be 
haunted by sad memories of her brother. She 
would try to relieve her aching heart by tears, but 
all in vain : the fountain of tears was dried, but the 
heart-ache would not pass away. 

“ What is it ? what is it ? What can the picture 
mean?” she would exclaim, as she tossed restlessly 
upon her sleepless couch. “I see the bier as it 
looked when Fred rested cold and motionless upon ' 
it : in a moment he disappears, and Grace’s golden 
curls are reposing in his stead ; then suddenly she 

fades from view to give place to Clarence ; and oh, 

horrible ! — the drapery is no longer pure and white, 
but blood-stained !” Then she would cover her face 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 15 

shudderingly, try to banish the fearful visions, and 
pray in agony for the blessing of sleep. 

Sometimes these visions were so vivid that she 
would raise herself on her arm and gaze eagerly in 
her sister’s calm and beautiful face, to assure herself 
they were not real. 


16 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTEE m. 

■ ■ ■ It 

“A look of scorn hath led to hate ; 

A kindly smile hath won a heart.” 

“ Magdalen, my child, you appall me by your un- 
governable temper !” 

A young girl, scarce fifteen, was standing before 
her mother, with cheeks paling and eyes flashing 
in a manner which bespoke an approaching or past 
storm. 

“Mother, it is shameful that Grace Eichmond, 
with her baby face, should be preferred to me not 
only by the school but by our teachers. I was the 
originator of this scheme: it was opposed at first, 
but I persevered ; and, having at length won Grace 
and Love Eichmond’s powerful influence, I con- 
sidered every thing would go off as I, in my own 
mind, had planned it. I, as the reigning school- 
beauty, would be queen ; Grace Eichmond, as the 
favorite^' (this was spoken with scornful emphasis,) 
“ and Agnes O’Mel, as the favorite’s friend, would 
be my maids of honor. But it was decided we 
should elect a queen, and that fair-haired folly, 
Grace Eichmond, was selected without one single 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


17 


dissenting voice, and I — Magdalen Shelby, an heiress 
and a beauty — was honored by being pronounced, 
with the same unanimity of voice, worthy to serve 
her highness. And, mark you, mother, I will not 
be present.” 

“But, my child, should you refuse the proffered 
honor and decline attending the party, every one 
would attribute your refusal to disappointment 
because you were not chosen queen.” 

“True,” she muttered: “I will be obliged to go; 
but I will make Grace Richmond weep bitter tears 
before she dies. She is preferred by teachers and 
scholars, and, I have sometimes feared, even by 
R'eville. Ah, I will not be rivalled there! I am 
glad Love is but a child, for she will be gloriously 
beautiful, and I might fear her; but Neville Heath 
shall be mine long before she will have love- 
dreams.” 

Magdalen stood by the window and gazed into 
the quiet streets, till she was aroused by a group of 
maidens, who, with their attendants, bade her join 
them in a moonlight walk. 

“Whither away, ladies fair?” cried Magdalen, as 
she joined the gay party, alt trace of the recent 
storm having passed away. 

“Whithersoever our fair queen commands,” an- 
swered Neville Heath, bowing with boyish gallantry 
to Grace, who leaned upon his arm. 


18 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Grace saw the gathering cloud on Magdalen’s 
brow, and smilingly answered, — 

“ Beauty should take precedence of royalty in this 
dear land of ours ; and besides, sir, in our court the 
heart, not the lips, must speak. Lead on.” She with- 
drew her hand from Neville’s arm, and left them 
alone. 

Magdalen fancied that Neville’s eyes looked after 
Grace with an expression rather uncomplimentary 
to herself; but the fancy was soon dispelled when he 
turned to her with his wonted air of graceful gal- 
lantry. 

“I look forward to to-morrow eve. Miss Mag- 
dalen, with bright anticipations of pleasure.” 

“And why, Neville?” 

“ Because I love to dance,” he answered, pro- 
vokingly. 

“Ah!” She deigned no further comment; and 
there was silence between them till one of the girls 
asked her where they were to go. 

“To the mill,” she briefly replied. 

As soon as the merry group ascertained the spot 
designated, a harum-scarum race began, and Mag- 
dalen and Neville were left far behind their com- 
panions. 

“What think you of our queen’s dignity?” in- 
quired Magdalen, as Grace bounded past them, her 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 19 

fair curls blown back by a gentle breeze, and her 
sweet face all aglow. 

“ Grace was always more noted for goodness than 
dignity,” answered N^eville, laughing. “Had you 
been chosen to reign,” he added, in a tone that 
thrilled her heart, “how regally you would have 
worn the diadem!” 

“You are partial,” said Magdalen, bending her 
stately head. 

“Yes, I am partial,” he answered, meaningly. 

They walked slowly onward, conversing in low 
tones. As they approached the mill, no one was 
visible save Grace, who was leaning against a tree 
and gazing pensively upon the stars. She looked 
so bewitchingly lovely that Heville could not resist 
the temptation to spring forward and give her a 
kiss. Grace started and gave a slight scream ; but, 
perceiving the smiling lips of the audacious offender 
and the scornful glances of Magdalen’s eyes, she 
blushed deeply and burst into tears. Heville was 
astonished and alarmed at the serious termination 
of his sport, and, taking Grace’s hand in both of his, 
he proceeded to apologize. 

“ I did not imagine for an instant, Grace, that my 
harmless kiss would so offend you.” 

“Heither did I think you would so insult me,” 
said poor Grace, sobbingly. 

“ But, Grace, I could not help it: you have no right 


20 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

to look SO pretty if you won’t be kissed. Forgive 
me this time, Gracie, and I will never repeat the 
offence, — if I can help it,” said i^eville, playfully. 
But Grace still wept, and ll^’eville exclaimed, despair- 

ingly,— 

“ In pity, Grace, tell me what I must do to con- 
vince you of my penitence. Bid me throw myself 
into the mill-stream, and I will obey to win your 
forgiveness. Ah, thank you: that smile is worth 
to me a monarch’s diadem !” he exclaimed, as a 
bright smile broke over Grace’s face. 

“I was very foolish to take it so seriously, ’Ne- 
ville, but I never dreamed that you ” 

‘‘Please don’t cry again. Your tears almost drive 
me distracted,” interrupted Neville, as Grace’s eyes 
filled with tears. 

Magdalen, who had been standing unheeded, ex- 
claimed, sneeringly, — 

“ Quite a lovers’ quarrel, on my word ! and, as 
there is almost a reconciliation, I -will be, in an 
instant, de trop” She bowed haughtily, and turned 
to rejoin her companions. 

This unladylike remark sent the quick blood to 
Grace’s face, and she was on the point of making a 
cutting reply ; but, remembering that Magdalen had 
seen and heard enough to make her feel a little 
jealous and irritable, she checked herself, and only 
exclaimed, reproachfully, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


21 


‘‘ Magdalen !” 

^Teville allowed the remark to pass unnoticed, 
and they were soon after joined by Agnes O’Mel. 
Agnes was of the same age as Magdalen ; but she 
looked at least a year older. She was attired in a 
black dress, which, being cut low, exposed her fair 
neck and shoulders. The thick, dark-brown hair 
was pushed carelessly back from her noble forehead 
and confined by a shell comb. Her eyes, large and 
of a deep gray color, wore an expression of unusual 
softness. A quietness amounting almost to gravity 
usually characterized her. She seldom smiled ; but, 
when the firmly-closed lips parted and the soft eyes 
brightened to greet one whom she loved, the sha- 
dowy cloud was lifted, and the gleaming sunshine 
broke brightly forth. 

“Your loyal subjects bade me seek your majesty 
and humbly beg that you join them at the bridge,” 
said Agnes, as she joined Grace. 

“I am willing and ready to accede to their peti- 
tion,” answered Grace, in the same spirit, attempting 
to withdraw her hand, which Heville had placed 
within his arm ; but he prevented her. 

“I have forgiven you the kiss, Heville,” whispered 
Grace, hurriedly, “ and you must not consider your- 
self bound to treat me with more attention than 
usual.” 

He smiled, but still retained her hand. 


22 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

‘‘There is our brilliant beauty leaning against 

yon tree, in a deep reverie, unconscious ” 

Seemingly unconscious,” interrupted N'eville, 
half impatiently. “Grace, I wish to walk with 
you: may I?” 

“iN’o, no: I would rather have you accompany 
Magdalen: it will wound her should you not.” 

A strange feeling of dreariness filled her heart as 
he released her hand and walked slowly to Magda- 
len’s side. She had unconsciously hoped he would 
not go. “ I am not beautiful nor an heiress like 
Magdalen ; but, oh, she does not love him as I do !” 
Thus musing, Grace, accompanied by Agnes, walked 
silently toward the bridge. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


23 


CHAPTER IV. 

The bright and youthful dancers meet, 

With laughing lips and winged feet, 

And golden locks come flashing by, 

Like sudden sunshine through the sky. 

Mrs. Essling. 

The sun shone radiantly on the day appointed for 
the May-party, and at two o’clock p.m. the spacious 
school-room was filled with old and young. A 
beautiful throne had been erected by the united 
efforts of the youths and maidens. The desks and 
benches had been removed, and every thing was in 
readiness for the coronation and the dance that was 
to follow. At a sign from the teacher, one of the 
girls struck up a march, and the fair queen elect, 
preceded and followed by her attendants, entered 
the room. She advanced to the foot of the throne, 
where she was crowned by the archbishop. 

She was seated in the chair of state, after deliver- 
ing her poetic inaugural, and the members of her 
court, one after another, knelt at her feet and kissed 
her hand in token of allegiance. 

When this ceremony was finished, the gay com- 
pany joined merrily in dances, game, or song, as 
each listed. 


24 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


At six o’clock, the younger children were sent 
home, but the elder ones pleaded to be permitted to 
dance till ten. 

E'eville had devoted himself to Grace, and Mag- 
dalen, although mortified and wretched at the pub- 
lic preference shown for another by one whom she 
had so long held in subjection by her glorious 
beauty and artful fascinations, was far too proud to 
allow these feelings to be manifested. 

There was one, however, who was not to be 
deceived by her gay and careless demeanor, and 
this one was a handsome youth of nineteen or 
twenty, with a spirit proud and haughty as her own 
flashing from his great black eyes. Henry Calvert, 
attracted by the powerful fascinations of wealth and 
loveliness, offered his hand to the young heiress, 
and had been unhesitatingly and scornfully rejected. 
He detected her real uneasiness under her assumed 
gayety, and rejoiced in it. 

Once during the evening almost the entire com- 
pany had gathered around the piano to hear Grace 
and Heville sing a duet Magdalen, glad to be 
alone and unobserved for a brief time, threw herself 
on a itte-h-tUe with a deep respiration which sounded 
almost like a sob. 

“Whence that deep-drawn sigh. Miss Shelby?” 
sounded, in a low, mocking voice, directly beside 
her. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


25 


She started, but, immediately recovering herself, 
answered, coldly, — 

‘‘ I sighed, Mr. Calvert, from very weariness of 
being compelled to entertain every fool that chooses 
to approach me.” 

“I hope,” observed he, without betraying the 
least emotion, “ that you do not intend to place me 
in your category of fools?” 

“I do not,” she answered: “you are far from 
being a fool; but ” 

“ But not so far from being a knave, you would 
add.” 

“Make your own inferences,” she observed. 
“ But why do you leave the queenly rose to seek 
the humble violet ?” 

“Because the violet, though lowly and modest, is 
sweet,” he answered. 

She felt the sarcasm, and her eyes drooped be- 
neath his, but immediately said, with a light laugh, — 

“ Pardon me : I spoke carelessly. My nature par- 
takes more of the nettle : violets do not sting 

She was amply avenged. He turned absolutely 
white with anger. 

A retort was prevented by the approach of Grace 
and Heville. 

“I come. Miss Magdalen,” said Heville, “to beg 
you to honor me by permitting me to escort you 
3 


26 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

home. I am at your disposal whenever you feel 
inclined to leave these halls of light.” 

“Thank you: Mr. Calvert will attend me,” an- 
swered Magdalen, with a sweet smile and graceful 
inclination of the head. 

“ Pity me !” he exclaimed, turning to Grace with 
a meaning glance and smile. 

“I do,” she answered, blushing; for, truth to 
tell, he had begged the privilege of attending her, 
and she had refused unless Magdalen should decline 
his escort. 

“ Aha !” cried Magdalen’s exulting heart, “ he is 
only tormenting me by flirting with my rival. It is 
my turn now: and shall I use my power lightly? 
Ah, no !” 

Days and months sped, yet he returned not to his 
allegiance. Magdalen’s proud heart ached when 
she thought, had she acted with a gentler and more 
womanly spirit on that fatal night when Neville 
kissed Grace at the old mill, things might have been 
far different. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


27 


CHAPTER V. 

“Farewell! my lips may wear a careless smile, 

My words may breathe the very soul of lightness ; 

But the touch’d heart must deeply feel, the while. 

That life has lost a portion of its brightness.” 

Three years have fled; and Magdalen Shelby is 
again standing before her mother with a clouded 
brow. 

“Mother, is this not adding insult to injury? 
Was it not enough that she wou him from me? 
And yet, to gain a more glorious triumph, she 
makes me her third bridesmaid !” 

“But, Magdalen, you have played your part so 
well, no one suspects you are breaking your heart 
for Heville Heath.” 

“Breaking my heart! ha! ha !” she laughed, bit- 
terly, and then continued : — “ Bo I look broken- 
hearted ? Ho, no ! but hers shall break, if such a 
thing be possible, and that ere many years. It is 
as you say : no one suspects I love Heville : so I must 
continue the farce, that suspicion may not be aroused. 
But listen and remember: in five years I will be 
Heville Heath’s wife.” 


28 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“ What do you mean, Magdalen ? Are you de- 
ranged ?” 

“ I am perfectly sane, and know what I am say- 
ing. In five years I will be his wife.” 

“But there is no probability of Grace’s dying.” 

“By no means. But there are many ways of 
getting rid of a rival, — divorce or poison.” 

“ Oh, Magdalen, you frighten me ! You do not 
know what you are saying !” 

“Ah! do I not? Many times during the past 
year I have thought of killing her ; but that would 
he too slight a revenge for what she has caused me 
to sufier. Listen to me, and I will unfold to you my 
plans. To-morrow night he marries her: during 
the evening I will manage to let him see how pas- 
sionately I love him. It will fiatter his vanity to 
believe I am breaking my heart for him, and I will 
soon manage to make his conquest. I have always 
found less difficulty in winning a woman’s husband 
than her lover. I will let Grace live till she has 
suffered a thousand deaths: then he shall murder 
her.” 

Mrs. Shelby, though somewhat awed by her wild 
words, laughed, for she thought it only the mean- 
ingless raving of a disappointed girl ; and she 
said, — 

“ You are either mad or jesting, Magdalen.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 29 

“I am not mad; and God knows I am not jest- 
ing,” replied the daughter. 

The trembling form, quivering lips, and flashing 
eyes attested the truth of her words. Her mother, 
who was a weak-minded woman, with many faults 
and foibles, tenderly loved her only child and 
deeply sympathized with her sorrow. She drew the 
aching head down upon her bosom, and murmured, 
caressingly, — 

“ He is unworthy your love, my beautiful child. 
This is a passing fancy, such as girls have a hundred 
times in their lives. And, besides, you must never 
condescend to wed a simple American citizen. We 
are going to Europe, you know ; and I will yet see 
a diadem upon my darling’s bright brow.” 

The girl had raised her head and sat silent until 
her mother ceased speaking: then she suddenly 
threw herself upon the floor, and cried, passion- 
ately, — 

“Mother, mother, I am not mad, but you will 
make me so ! I would not forego a single smile of 
Heville for the crown of an empress ! I hate the 
world, and every thing in it but Heville. If he 
would say to me to-night, ‘ Magdalen, my love, my 
heart, my soul, are yours, but I must marry your 
rival, from imperative reasons,’ mother, I would be 
satisfied.” 

“Perhaps, my child,” said the would-be com- 
3 * 


30 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


forter, catching at a straw, “he does love you. 
Indeed, how can he help loving — aye, worshipping — 
you ?” 

“ Ho, mother: he is infatuated with the silly, doll- 
baby face of Grace Kichmond.” 

“ If he can stoop to love her, I repeat, he is un- 
worthy your love.” 

Magdalen sprang from the floor, and, drawing 
up her slight and elegant flgure to its fullest 
height, exclaimed, in tones that frightened her mo- 
ther, — 

“ Silence ! Do you dare to call him unworthy ? 
He is all that is noble ; and if he loves her it is 
through her devilish blandishments.” 

The door opened, and Agnes O’Hiel was an- 
nounced. Magdalen went gayly and gracefully to 
meet her, not a single trace of the recent storm 
remaining, except her disarranged hair, which had 
escaped from confinement when she threw her- 
self upon the floor. She shook her long, black 
tresses back from her brow, and apologized by say- 
ing,— 

“You must excuse my appearance, Ag: I had 
just taken down my hair to see if I would look as 
well in curls as braids. You know, as I am to be 
one of Grace’s bridemaidens, I feel anxious to look as 
beautiful as possible.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 31 

“ You are always beautiful, Magdalen,” answered 
Agnes. “ Braids or curls, it is all the same.” 

As Agnes was also to be one of Grace’s at- 
tendants, the two girls launched into all the mys- 
teries of the minutiae of a bridal toilette: so we 
will not intrude upon them nor listen to their dis- 


cussion. 


32 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER YI. 

We’ll miss her when we gather round 
Our blazing hearth at night. 

When fond and pensive thoughts abound, 

Or when all hopes unite ; 

And pleasant talk of years to come, — 

Those years our fancies frame : 

Ah, she has now another’s home. 

And bears another’s name.” — Song. 

The large drawing-room of Mr. Richmond’s beau- 
tiful town residence was filled with guests impa- 
tiently awaiting the entrance of the party to be 
wedded. After the usual delay which occurs on 
such occasions, the bridal pair, accompanied by 
their attendants, entered, and the marriage rites 
proceeded. 

When the benediction was being pronounced, 
there was a ciy that one of the bridesmaids had 
fainted. ITeville, being nearer her than the other 
gentlemen, raised her from the floor. The com- 
pany had now crowded round, making inquiries and 
offering assistance. 

‘‘ She must have air, Neville,” whispered Grace. 
‘‘ Follow me.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


33 


He bore the fainting girl into an adjoining room 
and placed her on a couch. Then, and not till then, 
he recognised the white upturned face, and ex- 
claimed, — 

Grace, it is Magdalen Shelby !” 

Grace was entering the room, having been de- 
tained a moment to procure a restorative. 

“ Magdalen Shelby, Neville ? Impossible ! I 
have heard her say a hundred times that she had 
never fainted in the greatest extremity of pain or 
terror.” 

“Poor Magdalen ! she is as one dead now.” 

“What could have caused this, Neville ?” 

“ I have not the least idea. Perhaps she has been 
ill.” 

“ No : I never saw her appearing better than she 
did an hour since. She was in high spirits, and her 
face was perfectly radiant.” 

“ It must have been the heated atmosphere that 
caused her to faint. But see ! she is recovering. I 
will go now and send Agnes to you.” 

Magdalen pressed her hands tightly over her 
heart, and murmured, — 

“ Crushed ! crushed !” 

“What is it, dear Magdalen?” inquired Grace, 
smoothing her hair with a caressing motion. 

The large eyes flew open, and she pushed Grace 

from her, crying, — 

C 


34 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“ Go away, Grace Richmond ! It is not well for 
you to be alone with me.” 

“ Poor Magdalen ! her mind is wandering,” said 
Grace, tears gathering in her eyes. “I am your 
friend, dear Magdalen, — ^your friend, Grace Rich- 
mond, or rather,” continued Grace, thinking to re- 
call her, “Grace Heath. I have no right to the 
name of Richmond now, you know ” 

Magdalen started up and laid her hand heavily 
on Grace’s white shoulder. 

“ Do you dare gloat over your victim, false friend, 
traitress?” 

The usual soft, low voice was utterlj^ changed, 
and the words came hoarsely through the clenched 
teeth. Poor Grace sat motionless with fright, 
thinking, shudderingly, that she was alone with a 
maniac, who might be provoked to murder her 
should she make a single movement to escape. She 
was relieved from the horrible fear that possessed her 
by the entrance of Agnes and Reville. 

“I am glad to see you recovered. Miss Magdalen,” 
said the latter, bending over her. 

She raised her wild eyes to his, and murmured, — 

“You have broken my heart, R'eville : yes, it is 
broken, broken, broken!” And her voice died away 
in a low, wailing cadence, as she again clasped her 
hands over her heart and wearily closed her eyes. 

“She is insane, I^eville,” whispered Grace, cling- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 35 

ing tremblingly to her husband’s arm : “ she fright- 
ened me almost to death with her ravings when 
you left me alone with her.” 

Magdalen’s quick ear caught the whispered words, 
and she exclaimed, — 

“Insane! Eaving! Well, if I am mad, ’twas 
you that made me so.” She was silent for a mo- 
ment, but, suddenly changing, she said, plaintively, 
“ Take me home I take me home !” 

“ Grace, I will go myself and bring her mother to 
her,” said N’eville, “and we will be guided by her.” 

“I am afraid of her, Neville.” And poor Grace 
clung to his arm. 

“ Nonsense, Grace ! she is too ill to harm you if 
she would.” 

He left the room, and Grace sat down beside 
Magdalen. The girl was perfectly quiet for a little 
while ; but she suddenly startled her companions by 
grasping Grace’s hand and peering into the pink 
palm. 

“ It is a pretty hand, lady, — a pretty hand. Would 
you know the fortune it reveals to me ? Nay, nay, 
I must read your destiny,” she said, as the terrified 
bride attempted to withdraw her hand. 

“Humor her, Grace,” whispered Agnes. 

“ Give me a good fortune, maiden,” said Grace, 
yielding her hand. 

“ I will read you your fortune, lady, as this little 


36 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


hand reveals it to me. It is not for the poor gypsy 
maiden to make or mar fortunes : she can only reveal 
them as they are written, to those who would know 
their destiny. But listen : your future can be summed 
up in a few words. You are a fair, beauteous, and 
loved bride: the world seems bright before you. 
But, oh, how delusive the hopes of this life ! 
Your husband will love you for a brief period: then 
that love will he transferred to another. You will 
live a most wretched life for a few years : then you 
will die by poison administered by the hand of 
your husband ! ha, ha ! A bright fortune, my beau- 
teous bride ! You cannot escape it ; it is your fate ! 
ha, ha, ha !” 

Peal after peal of wild laughter filled the room, as 
the mad girl kept her gaze fixed upon the dilated 
eyes and white face of the poor bride, whom she 
was tormenting so cruelly. She sat motionless, 
fascinated, as it were, by Magdalen’s glittering eyes. 
It seemed as if the veil of the future had been lifted, 
and she saw herself, looking scarce older than her 
present self, lying dead within her coffin. 

The spell was broken by the sound of approaching 
footsteps, and in a moment Mrs. Shelby, accom- 
panied by a physician, entered the room. The 
physician decided Magdalen would better be taken 
home. She was soon placed in a carriage, and, with 
her mother and the physician, was driven home. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


37 


There were many conjectures regarding the cause 
of Magdalen’s fainting. Many reasons were as- 
signed, but none suspected the true cause, save 
Neville. He could not be mistaken longer in re- 
gard to Magdalen’s feelings toward himself. That 
one glance, and the passionate “Neville, you have 
broken my heart! it is broken, broken, broken!” 
had revealed all. 

And how did that revelation affect him ? Alas ! 
he was but mortal man, and his emotions were 
those of flattered vanity, mingled with pity for the 
elegant and beautiful girl who had been the heroine 
of his flrst boyish love, and over whose life he had 
cast a shadow for a time, perhaps forever. 

If the truth must be told, Neville, at this moment, 
thought more of the dark, brilliant beauty of the 
woman whose love for him was now a sin, than of 
the fair loveliness of his pure young bride. 


4 


38 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER Vn. 

** Some griefs the strongest soul might shake ; 

And I such griefs have had : 

My brain is hot, but they mistake 
Who deem that I am mad.” 

When Magdalen was carried into the parlor and 
gently placed in a large chair by the good doctor, 
the color had returned to her lips, and the wild 
light had died out of her eyes. 

“ How do you feel now, my child ?’* inquired he, 
placing his fingers upon her wrist and counting the 
pulse-beats. 

“Much better, I thank you. Dr. Linton. My 
pulse is all right, I guess.” 

“ Yes, nearly right. But what caused my stout- 
hearted little Magdalen to swoon in such style and 
in the presence of so many persons ?” 

“Well, doctor, I can scarcely tell. I had felt very 
well, — indeed, better than usual ; and I am heartily 
ashamed of this public display of weakness.' 

“It was from over-excitement and the heated 
rooms, I suppose. You would better allow your 
good mother to put you comfortably to bed : you 
will be well enough to attend all the balls and par- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


39 


ties that will be given in honor of this wedding. 
Good-night, and pleasant dreams. Shall I call in 
the morning?” 

“Thank you, doctor: I shall be quite well to- 
morrow.” 

“Very well. Good-night, Mrs. Shelby.” 

“ Good-night, sir.” 

When the door closed upon the retiring form of 
the doctor, Mrs. Shelby gazed inquiringly upon her 
daughter. 

“Well, Magdalen?” 

“Well, mother?” 

“ Pray, what does this mean ?” 

“ It means the Fates favored me, and I have taken 
the first step in my revenge. I was so fortunate as 
to faint at the conclusion of the marriage ceremony, 
and was borne from the room in the arms of IsTeville 
Heath. When I recovered my consciousness, I 
played the crazy maiden, and very nearly frightened 
Mistress Heath out of her wits by pretending my 
whimsical madness had taken the form of prophecy. 
As for Heville, he knows how entirely my heart is 
his.” 

“ Magdalen, have your maidenly pride and delicacy 
taken leave of you, as well as your senses?” cried 
poor Mrs. Shelby, much shocked. 

“Hay, nay, mother,” answered the girl, coolly, “I 
was mad : I knew not what I said or did.” 


40 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


‘‘My child, are you determined, to attempt to 
carry out this mad scheme?’* 

“ I intend to attempt it, and am determined to 
succeed.” 

“ Magdalen, are you possessed of a demon?” 

“I neither know nor care,” she answered, reck- 
lessly. “ I only know I would sacrifice any thing, 
every thing, to win the love of N^eville Heath.” 

“And will nothing turn you from your pur- 
pose?” 

“Ho thing.” 

Mrs. Shelby sighed and looked grave. Magdalen 
kissed her mother’s cheek lightly and bade her 
good-night. 

Magdalen feigned illness for two or three weeks, 
and coaxed Dr. Linton, with whom she was a great 
favorite, into abetting the deceit, by telling him she 
wished it to appear that she had fainted from sudden 
illness. 

“ I have a good reason for wishing it to appear 
that this fainting was occasioned by physical suffer- 
ing,” she urged, coaxingly. 

“Well, well, tell me the true reason, and I’ll 
pledge myself to help you on with this plotting. 
Come; what is it?” 

“Ill-natured people might say, you know, that 
Magdalen Shelby was certainly wild about Heville 
Heath, or she would never have swooned at his 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


41 


wedding. Eh, old curiosity ? is that a satisfactory 
reason?” 

“ Nay, nay, my gypsy ; sparkling eyes and roguish 
smiles are not worn by love-lorn damsels. Small 
danger of your dying of a broken heart this time. 
Your looks belie your words, sweet lassie. I am not 
blind, nor yet a fool.” 

‘‘ I fear you are the last, my kind old friend,” 
thought Magdalen ; “ but there will be many others, 
who think themselves far wiser, to keep you com- 
pany.” 

“You won’t betray me?” she asked, laughingly, 
as he took his hat to go. 

“No, my child. I’ll keep this mournful secret,” 
returned the old gentleman, laughing at the good 
joke. 


4 * 


42 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER Vm. 

Love not, love not : the one you love may change ; 

The rosy lip may cease to smile on you, 

The kindly beaming eye grow cold and strange, 

The heart still warmly beat, and not for you. 

Mrs. Norton. 

Three months after Grace Richmond's wedding, 
a gay party was assembled at Neville Heath's beau- 
tiful country-seat. The leaves were falling ; but the 
Heaths and their guests still lingered, unwilling to 
return to the noise and confusion of city life. The 
entire party, consisting of the host and hostess, 
Agnes O’Niel, Magdalen Shelby, Kate Dunnington, 
Henry Calvert, Clarence Richmond, and Willie Cal- 
vert, sat in the wide hall planning a picnic to the 
Great Falls of the Potomac. 

It was finally decided they should go on horse- 
back, and would have a dance in the ball-room that 
had been erected for the purpose of accommodating 
the many excursionists who visit this beautiful spot. 

“And now, gentlemen, you must engage your 
partners," said Neville. 

The young gentlemen, as with one accord, sprang 
forward and begged the honor of escorting Grace ; 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 43 

but she, with woman’s ready tact, read the heart 
of each, and placed her hand in that of Willie Cal- 
vert, whom she knew had no lady-love present; and 
she moreover suspected him of a half-fancy for her 
sister Love, who was absent at school. 

Clarence had already appropriated Agnes, and 
Henry Calvert approached Kate. As he passed 
Magdalen, he whispered, — 

“Am I not generous to resign you and escort 
that little Kate Dunnington, thus aftbrding you an 
unobserved parting interview with your lover ere 
you leave for Europe ?” 

He did not wait to note the effect of his words, 
but passed on to where Kate was seated. 

“Well, Miss Shelby, this is an unexpected plea- 
sure,” said Keville ; then added, in a lower tone, 
that was heard only by Grace, Willie, and herself, 
“ I am astonished that the young gentlemen should 
leave the brightest flower to a Benedict like me.” 

The tones were those of common compliment, 
but they fell on Grace’s heart like a knell. Poor 
bride ! although she and Magdalen had laughed flfty 
times over the events of the memorable wedding- 
eve, Grace could not help feeling a little heavy- 
hearted when her husband paid Magdalen any little 
attention that would have passed unnoticed had it 
been directed toward any other lady. She waited 
tremblingly for Magdalen’s reply. 


44 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“ I am most happy to accept you as my true and 
loyal knight,” answered Magdalen, in the same tone 
that he had used ; hut there was a world of love in 
the beautiful eyes that gazed into his. 

The glance thrilled his heart, but he made a light 
reply and turned to Grace. He flushed slightly as 
he met her eyes, in which tears had gathered. He 
pressed her hand and whispered, — 

“ Why, dearest, I believe you are half jealous of 
your lovely friend.” 

“ Oh, Heville, do you think you will always love 
me?” 

“I know I shall always love you, dearest. But 
why do you ask such a question ?” 

“I have never succeeded in driving away entirely 
the unpleasant impression made on my mind by 
Magdalen’s prophecy.” 

“Nonsense, Grace ! Why, what your friend said 
was in the delirium of fever. You know she was 
ill for two or three weeks after that night.” 

Grace smiled sadly, and shook her head. 

“Must I still play the lover, sweet?” asked Ne- 
ville, raising her white hand to his lips. 

“ Yes, yes, Neville; play the lover as long as your 
heart prompts,” she answered, smiling brightly, 
her faith in his love entirely restored. 

This little episode was unnoticed by all save 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


45 


Henry Calvert and Magdalen, who were standing 
together apparently absorbed in each other. 

“My lady seems jealous,” remarked Calvert. 

“ She has cause,” answered Magdalen. “ He 
loves me, although he knows it not.” 

“Do you dare to boast that you have won the 
love of a man who has been married but three little 
months ?” 

“ I am not apt to boast without good reason.” 

“And what will this love bring you?” asked he, 
significantly. 

“ Honor and happiness.” 

“Honor and happiness, and he the wedded hus- 
band of another ?” 

“Yes. I sail for Europe in the next steamer: she 
is a delicate creature, and may fade from the earth 
in a few years.” 

“ Particularly if a certain fair friend of hers, who 
shall be nameless, being solicitous about preserving 
her beauty, should employ a well-known agent 
called arsenic.'' 

The pale cheek grew paler as he thus read her 
secret thoughts ; but she answered, with perfect self- 
possession, — 

“ I know of no one base enough to commit such 
a crime but yourself.” 

“Suppose we cease hostilities for a brief while 
and make ourselves agreeable to each other?” 


46 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“ That were an utter impossibility.” 

“Pardon me: I meant seemingly agreeable. To 
begin: do you know that the world calls us en- 
gaged?” 

“Engaged! and to you?” 

“To me. But pray, sweet lady, look not so 
scornfully upon me. Would it not be well to let 
the world believe us engaged? I can read your 
inmost soul, as you well know ; and would it not 
be well to have me as an ally rather than an 
enemy ?” 

“ Yes. But what can impel you to wish to for- 
ward my plans, — you, a rejected suitor?” 

“ You well know — so I may as well confess — that 
I was only a suitor, never a lover.” 

“Well?” 

“ But you do not know that I was deeply in love 
with Grace Richmond, and was refused three 
times.” 

“Ah 1” (with a slight accent of surprise.) “Well?” 

“ I now hate as much as I once loved her, and I 
am willing to join you in any scheme to humble 
her.” 

It is needless to say that every thing he had 
spoken was utterly false. His motives will be re- 
vealed hereafter. 

The day appointed for the excursion to the Great 
Falls proved to be pleasant, and, at an early hour. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 47 

a large party of the neighboring gentry were 
assembled at hTeville Heath’s preparatory to start- 
ing. 

Heville and Magdalen led the brilliant cavalcade. 
Both being bold and fearless equestrians, and 
mounted on excellent horses, they soon left their 
companions far behind. Magdalen showed to pecu- 
liar advantage on horseback ; and, as we have never 
described our heroine, we will attempt it now. 

Her beauty was of the hrunetteij^Q proper, — a style 
seldom seen. Her complexion was white and 
smooth, without the slightest tinge of rose tinting 
her cheek. Even when agitated by any passing 
emotion, her face, instead of flushing, grew whiter. 
She usually wore her abundant, bluish-black tresses 
wound in braids about her small head. Her lips 
were beautifully chiselled, and ruby red; but her 
mouth and chin wore an expression of cold cruelty. 
We scarce dare attempt a description of her eyes. 
They were large, dark, and very beautiful. They 
could flash and glitter with anger, melt with pity, 
or beam unutterable love, with the rapidity of light- 
ning. It was to these wondrous eyes, through 
which she could speak any language she chose, her 
heart remaining untouched by any emotion the 
meanwhile, that she owed her strange power of 
fascination. She was proud, cold, and haughty. 
She had many secret enemies, though she was too 


48 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 

mucli feared to have any open ones. She fre- 
quently boasted to her mother that she could fas- 
cinate any man she willed; and she never failed, 
but once. 

When ISTeville and Magdalen were full a mile 
ahead of their companions, Magdalen proposed they 
should gallop hack to meet them. In turning sud- 
denly, her horse started, and she was thrown to the 
ground. 

Seville dismounted instantly ; hut she had already 
sprung up. 

“ Are you injured, Magdalen ?” he inquired, as 
soon as he approached her. 

‘‘ Only very slightly,” she answered. 

Do you feel equal to walking forward with my 
assistance ? Our friends will he seriously alarmed 
by seeing our horses riderless.” 

“ Oh, yes.” * 

She placed her hand upon his offered arm, and 
they walked slowly forward. 

“Magdalen,” he asked, abruptly, “how is it that 
you can give your heart to Calvert, who does not 
appreciate either your intellect or beauty?” 

“ I have promised him my hand ; but he knows 
my heart can never he given a second time.” 

“ I have half suspected, Magdalen, that you had 
loved unhappily. Is it so ?” 

“ It is true. But 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 


49 


‘ ’Twere better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all,’ ” 

she answered, sadly. 

“ Magdalen, Magdalen, who could have cast your 
great love away?” he cried. 

‘‘ Spare me, I^eville : I have sometimes feared my 
eyes would betray to him this humiliating, sinful 
secret, for he is lost to me forever: he is married.” 

She would have fallen had he not thrown his arm 
around her. Obeying a mad impulse, he clasped 
her tightly to his bosom and kissed her quivering 
lips, crying repeatedly, — 

“ Magdalen, oh, Magdalen ! what a fatal, fatal 
mistake I have made ! Too late I discover I cherish 
my first love still !” 

She recalled him to himself by a sudden burst of 
tears. He withdrew his arm from about her waist 
and strove to calm her. 

“Oh, Heville, I have prayed to be spared this 
humiliation, and my lonely exile will be doubly 
dark when I think of you suffering too.” 

“And do you think that by placing the ocean 
between us you can divide our hearts ?” 

“ I am going to investigate the Catholic religion, 
and, if I can become a convert, I shall enter a con- 
vent and try to find peace, if nothing more.” 

“And Henry Calvert?” 

“ I have engaged myself to him with the under- 


60 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

standing that, if at the altar I should find myself 
unequal to the sacrifice, he will release me. I know 
I shall never marry him.” 

At this instant their friends came within sight, 
and in a moment Henry Calvert was beside them. 
Their horses were soon brought by Willie Calvert 
and another youth ; and Magdalen, who assured 
him that she had sustained but trifiing injury, was 
tenderly assisted into the saddle by Henry Calvert, 
and they rode the remainder of the distance in com- 
pany. 

“Well, Miss Hunnington,” said Grace, “it seems 
Henry and Magdalen have made up their lovers’ 
quarrel, and you will have to be consoled by Willie 
bere for the loss of his brother. As for me,” she 
continued, “I have already so nearly lost my hus- 
band to-day I intend to keep him near me.” 

These words fell on Seville’s ear like a reproach; 
and he almost hated Grace for making him feel like 
the guilty wretch he was. 

“ Grace, do you know for what purpose Magdalen 
visits Italy?” he inquired. 

“To enjoy herself, I suppose.” 

“ She is going to become a Catholic and a nun.” 

“ Thank Heaven !” exclaimed Grace, involun- 
tarily. 

“ Grace, he said, in tones she had never heard 
from his lips, “ is it by indulging in this foolish and 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 51 

groundless jealousy that you will retain your hus- 
band’s love ?” 

iN’eville, do not speak to me so harshly. I can- 
not help my feelings.” 

“ Then do not annoy me by a manifestation of 
them,” he answered, coldly. 

The tears sprang into the gentle eyes of the wife ; 
but her heart was so full that she dared not speak, 
lest she should give cause for further unkindness. 

Neville’s naturally honorable and noble nature 
reproached him for his conduct, when he reflected 
he had sought and won his true-hearted Grace but 
to repay her devotion with neglect and unkindness. 
He resolved to tell her all, and exert himself to 
crush out his love for Magdalen and bestow it 
where it was rightly due. must tell her to-day,” 
he said, mentally, “ or I shall lack the courage.” 

When they had reached their destination, the 
girls sought the dressing-room to change their 
riding-habits for dresses more suitable to dancing. 
Neville detained Grace, drew her arm through his, 
and led her to a retired seat. He here humbled 
himself, — told her how he had loved Magdalen 
when a boy, — how his love for her had, as he be- 
lieved, passed forever from her to Grace. He then 
told her he had never dreamed that Magdalen loved 
him, until she fainted when he was married, and he 
never knew it until this da3^ He concluded by tell- 


62 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

ing her thalMie had compelled Magdalen to acknow- 
ledge it, and dwelt on her anguish and pure-hearted- 
ness until poor Grace could endure no more, and 
cried, in anguish, — 

“IS'eville, oh, ITeville, why did you marry me? 
Why did you deceive me by feigning to love me 
when your heart was so entirely another’s ?*’ 

‘‘ I swear to you, on my honor, Grace, when I 
promised to love you I was perfectly sincere.” 

Then this bold, bad, artful girl has won my hus- 
band’s love. O God! let me die! let me die!” 
And Grace bowed like a broken reed, in this her 
first great woe. 

‘‘ Grace, you do not know the lovely girl whom 
you stigmatize as ‘bold, bad, artful.’ Could you 
have seen her, as I did, humbled to the dust, ac- 
knowledging her love, her shame, her agony, you 
would pity rather than condemn.” 

“It was all acting! O God! let me die! let 
me die !” moaned Grace. 

“ But, when I forgot myself and you, and spoke 
burning words, ’twas she that recalled me, and, 
noble girl that she is, thought only of my suffer- 
ing, and prayed that, when she should enter the 
cloister where she hoped to find peace, we might 
be happy.” 

“ It was all acting. She will never enter a con- 
vent. She will go away a brief while, but she will 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


53 


return. Her prophecy will be fulfilled. Already I 
feel the cofiin enclosing my dead form, and hear the 
clods of earth falling on my bosom. But, oh, Se- 
ville, you will not poison me, as she said ? I am not 
afraid to die; but you will not poison me?” And she 
looked into his face with her blue eyes full of in- 
quiring agony. 

‘‘ Grace, Grace,” he said, vainly trying to quell 
the storm he had raised, “ Magdalen will become a 
nun, and my wild love for her will pass like a 
dream. I have told you all, thinking it my duty, 
and I expected you to bear it like a strong-minded, 
patient woman; but instead you sob and moan, 
clasp your hands, and say wild words, like a broken- 
hearted, despairing girl mourning over the incon- 
stancy of a lover.” 

“ And is the loss of a husband’s love so light a 
cloud on a woman’s heart?” 

“ Hay, nay,” he said, glad to see her more calm, 
‘‘ but you have not lost your husband’s love without 
hope of its return. I will pray as earnestly as you 
can do for my heart to turn again to you. Only be 
patient.” 

“ I will try to be patient, as you wish, Heville, 
and perhaps God will, in pity, let me die : then you 
may be happy.” 

“ I tell you, Grace, were you to die to-morrow I 

would never marry Magdalen. And, were it even 
5 * 


54 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

possible I could think of such a thing, she would 
drive me from her presence with scorn.” 

Grace shook her head in utter unbelief of the 
latter part of the sentence, and rose to go, saying, — 

“ I honor you for the course you have pursued in 
regard to me, although it seems almost a cruel 
kindness. The world shall believe me the happy 
wife I was two hours since.” 

‘‘I doubt it not, dear Grace. All will yet be 
well, believe me.” 

“I trust it may,” she answered; ‘‘and yet,” she 
mentally exclaimed, “I feel assured you are de- 
ceiving yourself. I do not doubt the sincerity of 
your honorable purpose, my husband, but you, like 
all whom she determines shall yield to her, will be 
charmed into her toils by the singular power of 
fascination she possesses.” 

Ko one who witnessed the light-hearted gayety 
of Grace, the graceful gallantry of hTeville, and the 
brilliant elegance of Magdalen, as they mingled 
with the dancers on that day, would have deemed 
that they were all utterly wretched : yes, even Mag- 
dalen, although she had triumphed thus far, feared 
that, when she had withdrawn the dangerous fasci- 
nation of her presence, Neville, with his high sense 
of honor, would succeed in breaking the spell that 
bound him. 

Two weeks after the events just narrated, Magda- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


55 


len, accompanied by ber mother, sailed for Europe. 
And no one suspected the bride of a few months 
was less happy than she seemed. 

Grace and E’eville never referred to this day ; yet 
in their secret souls it was an ever-present guest. 
Grace was oppressed with what she felt was inevi- 
table ; and Efeville vainly strove to banish the sad 
memory of the haunting eyes and slender grief- 
bowed form of his temptress. He invariably treated 
Grace with the tenderest care. This was far more 
alarming than indifference or unkindness, for she 
felt that his tenderness proceeded from pity and 
remorse, not from returning love. 


56 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER IX. 

She was like 

A dream of poetry, that may not be 
Written or told, — exceeding beautiful. — Willis. 

The sun flashed in golden radiance over the city 
of Washington on the 1st of January, 18 — . The 
broad streets and avenues were filled with ladies 
and gentlemen wending their way to the Presidential 
mansion for the purpose of paying their respects to 
the Chief Magistrate of the United States, as is the 
annual custom. 

At half-past twelve, a handsome equipage drove 
up to the archway. A gentleman sprang out and 
assisted two ladies to alight. The elder lady we 
recognise as Mrs. Xeville Heath, looking scarcely 
older than when she stood before the altar a little 
more than two years ago. But who is the won- 
drously beautiful girl that accompanies her? We 
cannot be mistaken in the identity of the large, 
dark, melancholy eyes. Yes, it is Love Richmond. 
She has just finished her education, and she is pro- 
nounced, by the voice of Madame M. of Xew York, 
fitted to grace the fashionable world. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 57 

When she looked upon the surging crowd that 
threatened to crush her, she grew pale and faint, and 
clung, with her olden-time timidity, to the arm of 
her brother-in-law. 

“Why, Love, you little coward, what are you 
trembling for?” 

“ Oh, IS'eville, I wish I had not allowed you to 
coax me to come to this hateful place.” 

“Treason, treason, fair lady. Do you have the 
audacity to call this edifice a ‘hateful place’?” 

“ If that be treason, then am I a traitor,” said a 
laughing voice beside them. 

“Ha, Lionel, well met,” cried Seville. “You 
must take pity on me, and assume the charge of 
this young lady, who has some intention of faint- 
ing, I fear. Allow me to present you: — my sister. 
Miss Richmond, Mr. Percy.” 

“ I will be most happy to give the support of my 
arm to Miss Richmond, if she will accept it,” 
answered the gallant young midshipman, bowing 
as gracefully as the circumstances would admit. 

“ Thank you,” answered Love, raising her eyes 
to the face of her new acquaintance, not ill pleased 
to find it eminently handsome : “ I will accept your 
escort, as my brother seems quite anxious to be rid 
of me.” 

“And for no other reason, lady?” 

“You mistake me,” answered Love, smiling, and 


58 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

with the faintest possible blush : I am well pleased 
with the exchange.*’ 

Neville shook his head at her, and Lionel Percy 
made a laughing, grateful acknowledgment. 

Ere they had reached the goal of their hopes — 
the reception-room of their President — ^they felt as 
if they had known each other for years. They both 
discovered it was not such a hateful place after all, 
for they remained more than an hour seated in the 
East Room, taking no note of how time was flying, 
until Neville and Grace approached and asked if 
they were willing to go home. 

“You must dine with us to-day, Lionel, if your 
engagements will permit,” said Neville. 

“ I have no engagement that I cannot break for 
the pleasure of dining with you. I had promised a 
half-dozen or so of fellows from our ship to meet 
them at the Indian Queen ; but if they wait for me 
their dinner will be cold.” 

“And what will your friends think of you for 
treating them so badly?” asked Love. 

“ They would think me worse than mad were I to 
act otherwise.” 

“ Are you acquainted with Captain Clinton, Ne- 
ville?” inquired Lionel, as they lingered over the 
dessert. 

“ Only by reputation.” 

“He is in Washington, and, with your per- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 59 

mission, I will introduce him to you this evening. 
I am certain you will be pleased with him ; he is a 
noble fellow.” Then turning to Love, he said. 

He is a widower. Miss Richmond, his wife having 
died some two years since. The ladies are perfectly 
wild about him ; but he cannot be prevailed on to 
surrender to their fascinations. I give you fair 
warning, as a friend, that his heart is buried : so do 
not lose yours.” 

‘‘Hever fear,” answered Love, gayly: “I hate 
old widowers.” 

“ But Captain Clinton is not an old widower : he 
is only thirty.” 

“ He is far too old for me. Besides, widowers are 
my pet aversion, and I am determined not to like 
him.” 

“Why do you have such an antipathy toward 
widowers ? They — poor fellows ! — cannot help their 
misfortunes. And I am sure the greater portion of 
them always take particular pains to make them- 
selves agreeable to the ladies.” 

“That is. just the reason why I hate them,” 
answered Love. “ They take far too much pains to 
make themselves interesting. Here is a case in 
point: — One evening last w^eek I was at a small 
party, enjoying a quiet little chat with a dear friend 
of mine, Katie Dunnington, — by-the-way, I will 
present you to her this evening, but, I warn you in 


60 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

return, she is an arrant flirt, — when who should 
walk in but one of those hateful widowers, and, 
instead of talking to some of the gentlemen or 
elderly ladies, he must seat himself beside me, the 
youngest girl in the room? and he actually made 
love to me, though his wife had been dead only 
three months ! It was positively shocking.” And 
there was a slight frown on the white brow, and a 
pout on the rosy lips, as the wilful little lady con- 
cluded her speech. 

Lionel looked on her admiringly, and asked, 
“ But shall I bring Captain Clinton this even- 
ing?” 

“ Oh, yes, if you wish. But you must promise 
to protect me from him. I verily believe it is my 
fate to be martyred by the attention of widowers.” 

“ I will pledge myself to place myself as a barri- 
cade to protect you from widowers in general, and 
this widower in particular.” 

‘‘And when you are threatened with a similar 
visitation, — widows, — call upon me, and I will pro- 
tect you from their wiles as well as I possibly 
can.” 

“Thank you all the same for your proffered 
kindness, but I do not care about being protected 
from the witches. 

“ Oh, well, if that be the case, I have nothing 
more to say,” observed Love, a little piqued. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 61 

“Nay, nay, now,” he returned; “I do not doubt 
your power to dispel their spells.” 

“I am appeased,” she cried. “But what shall 
I do to repay you for your promised protec- 
tion?” 

“ Sing for me to-night.” 

“ With pleasure. But must you go so soon?” 

“ It is nearly five o'clock. I must go, but will 
report myself on duty at eight. Good-evening.” 
And, with a sweeping bow, he retired. 

“Love at first sight, eh?” cried Neville, as soon 
as Lionel was beyond hearing. 

Love' pouted her rosy lips, and retorted, pet- 
tishly, — 

“ ’Tis better love at first sight than no love at all, 
as is your case, Mr. Neville.” 

It was a random shot; but it told fearfully. Ne- 
ville’s face fiushed crimson, and Grace’s grew deadly 
pale. 

“ Oh, Love, sister Love, what have you said?” 

“What is it, Grace? What do you mean? 
What have I said?” Love threw herself on the sofa 
beside Grace, and her eyes filled with tears as she 
looked wonderingly from one to the other. 

“Don’t cry. Love,” said Neville, as soon as he 
could collect himself sufficiently: “it is nothing. 
Your innocent words recalled a long-buried 
memory.” 


62 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“ But what is it ? Any one, to look at your 
guilty faces, would think you had committed mur- 
der and Grace was an accomplice.” 

“ITot quite so bad as that,” answered Neville, 
trying to laugh. 

“What is it? Tell me, and I will assist in re- 
interring this memory that I have raised from the 
grave of the past.” 

“ But a secret, after it has passed to a third per- 
son, is no secret.” 

“I don’t care!” persisted Love, with her olden 
waywardness : “ I will know. You shall — Oh, keep 
your old ghost of a secret; for here comes Kate. 
She is not so chary of her secrets, I guess; and, 
besides, I have one or two to tell her.” And the 
wayward, capricious little gypsy sprang up and 
skipped away to welcome her friend. 

As they stand together, we will say a few words 
about them. 

Kate Dunnington was a sweet little creature, 
overflowing with mischief and loving playfulness. 
Her light step and merry song were heard con- 
tinually, in parlor or in kitehen, in the chamber 
or on the staircase, as the graceful figure flitted 
hither and thither. She was loved by all, envied 
by none ; yet there was much to envy, for she. was 
called pretty and sweet-tempered. Her hair and 
eyes were light brown, — not an uncommon color, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 63 

yet in perfect harmony with her clear complexion 
and 'petite figure. 

Love Richmond was, in person, strangely like 
Magdalen. She possessed Magdalen’s slender, ele- 
gant figure, and small, beautifully-formed head, 
the same colorless complexion, long blue-black 
hair, and tiny foot and hand. The expression of 
her mouth and eyes was different. Although Love 
was forever ffying about with a laugh or a jest, her 
eyes never played their part, hut always wore a 
shadowy, brooding light that contrasted singularly 
with her smiling, rose-bud mouth. Love was a 
dreamer, and was half ashamed of it: therefore 
she pretended to laugh at love and romance. But 
her dreamy, romantic spirit revealed itself in wild, 
wailing music, she having inherited from her 
mother the gift of improvisation. She was a true 
friend, but a bitter enemy. She was just and 
honorable ; but, unlike her sister Grace, she was not 
disposed to forgive an injury or submit with pa- 
tience to wrong. After the two had chatted a 
moment, she said, — 

“ Come to my room, Kate : I want to have you 
look as pretty as may be to-night, because a 
widower, who, report says, cannot be conquered, is 
to be here. He is a captain in the United States 
Kavy, too.’* 


64 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“ Oil, dear me ! my heart is gone already, Love. 
But is he handsome ?” 

“I don’t know: I never saw him in my life, and 
never heard of him till to-day. But, I say, Kate, 
you mustn’t interfere with my handsome midship- 
man, Lionel Percy.” 

“ Kever fear. Love. I prefer to he the captain’s 
lady.” 

‘‘But come; and you, brother Seville and sister 
Grace, mind to have that secret buried, and no trace 
remaining, when we return.” 

When the door closed on the girls, Grace knelt 
beside her husband and laid her head on his 
bosom. 

“ This has been a forbidden subject between us 
for two years, and during that time I cannot find a 
single thing to reproach you with. You have never 
shown, by the least sign, that you still remember 
her. But I know all that you suffer, my husband, 
for she haunts your dreams, and you murmur her 
name as you have never murmured mine. But do 
not think I am reproaching you. I know how you 
have struggled against this passion, and God has 
given me strength to be patient and almost content. 
You are young yet, dearest, — only twenty-five; and 
even if I should live five years yet, — ^which is scarcely 
possible, — ^you will have many years of happiness, 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 65 

to reward you for your tender care of the unhappy 
cause of all this misery.” 

‘‘ Oh, Grace, my noble wife, your every word and 
glance has been a reproach to my guilty soul. But 
I believe that you have not so intended. It is as 
you say: I have struggled against this passion. But 
I am like the bird fascinated by the serpent: I know 
I am being drawn to destruction, but I cannot break 
the spell.” 

Kate and Love re-entered the room, and this con- 
versation terminated. 


E 


6« 


66 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER X. 

“I never will love; oh, no !” 

And her proud eye lit with scorn, 

And her curling lip had a rosier glow, 

And her cheek wore the hue of the morn. 
****** 

I have read, in an olden book, 

Of one who gave unsought 
The golden sands of her heart’s clear brook 

To him who prized them naught. — Ruth Rustic. 

‘‘Come, captain, you must go. I promised that 
you would accompany me, and I must keep my 
word. A single glance of Miss Richmond is worth 
the visit. She is only sixteen or seventeen, I should 
judge, hut the loveliest creature I ever saw.” 

“You are aware I am not so great an admirer of 
feminine loveliness as I once was,” answered the 
captain, with a sigh. 

“Well, well, but you will go to oblige me?” said 
Lionel, a little vexed that his friend had no desire 
to see the beauty who had so suddenly won his 
heart. 

“ Certainly I will go to oblige you,” answered the 
captain, smiling at the enthusiasm of the youth. 

When they were ushered into the parlor, where 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 67 

several guests were assembled, Captain Clinton 
glanced carelessly around, but suddenly started a 
step toward Kate, exclaiming, with agitation, — 

‘‘ My God, Emily !” 

His emotion was unnoticed by all save Kate, and 
the ceremony of presentation proceeded. When 
this form was through with. Captain Clinton seated 
himself beside Kate and explained the cause of the 
emotion he had exhibited. 

‘‘ You are so like a very dear lost friend. Miss 
Dunnington, that for an instant I felt as if I stood 
in her presence.” 

‘‘ His wife,” thought Kate. “ Good !” 

He remained conversing with her during the 
evening, and they were mutually pleased and 
interested. 

“Look at your paragon of a widower,” whispered 
Love to Lionel, exultingly. “Instead of joining 
papa and mamma or Grace, he must devote himself 
to Katie.” 

“I must confess that it is a little singular, — 
indeed, very singular,” said Lionel, as he observed 
them particularly for the first time during the 
evening. 

At this moment Captain Clinton rose, and, offer- 
ing his arm to Kate, led her toward them. The 
puzzled expression on Lionel’s face changed to one 
of astonishment, and he exclaimed, — 


68 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Heavens ! what a resemblance !” 

“ What is it ?” asked Love. ‘‘ Are you bewitched 
too ?” she added, pettishly, as he did not reply. 

“ Pardon me, but she is a perfect counterpart of 
his wife, Emily Clinton.” 

“Miss Kichmond,” said the captain, who had 
approached sufficiently near to address her, “Miss 
Dunnington will not sing for me, but has promised 
to prevail on you to give us some music, in which 
accomplishment, she assures me, you excel.” 

“ Miss Kichmond promised me a song this even- 
ing provided I protected her from a threatened 
danger. Am I deserving of the reward?” 

“Fairly,” answered Love, as, seating herself at 
the piano and running her fingers over the keys, 
she drew forth a sweet, wild strain of music. “ Give 
me a theme.” 

“ I am not particular as to the song. Select one 
yourself.” 

“You mistake, Lionel. Miss Kichmond is an 
improvvisatrice,” explained Captain Clinton. 

“An improvvisatrice? Is it possible ? Give you 
a theme? I imagine I will. Love.” 

“ That has been his theme for some hours past. 
Miss Love,” said Captain Clinton, mischievously 
addressing her by her baptismal name. 

Kate laughed, and Love swept the keys to cover 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 69 

her embarrassment, and then her clear, sweet voice 
filled the room with melody : — 

** Oh, tell me what is love, mother,” 

Said a maiden fair and young : v 

“Love is a witching dream, daughter, 

Over life’s pathway flung.” 

“ But tell me of this dream, mother, 

Is it not fair and bright?” 

“ ’Tis sometimes very fair, daughter, 

But oftener a blight.” 

“Our neighbor, Charlie Lee, mother. 

Says that he loveth me : 

It makes me smile and blush, mother ; 

And then, too, blusheth he.” 

, “In seeming this is love, daughter; 

This is the starry dream 
That over thy young life, daughter, 

Mayhap will briefly gleam.” 

“ Ah, yes, for he may die, mother, — 

. . My love, my Charlie Lee ; 

Or I, should I go first, mother, 

He soon would follow me.” 

“Ere ends the passing year, daughter. 

Which will so quickly flee, ' 

Perchance thy love will smile, daughter. 

That e’er he fancied thee.” 
****** 

“ The year has scarcely fled, mother. 

And faithless Charlie Lee 
Another girl has wed, mother : 

Alas! and woe is me!” ‘ 

‘‘Do you really think, Miss Eichmond, that we 


70 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

gentlemen are the faithless, inconstant creatures 
your song would have us ?” inquired Captain 
Clinton, when she had finished singing. 

“ We have generally found them so : have we not, 
Katie ?” 

“ Do not call on me to endorse your outrageous 
slanders against the ‘ lords of creation,’ ” answered 
Kate, laughingly. “I am a firm believer in their 
truth and constancy, and devoutly pray that I may 
never have cause to change.” 

‘‘We are honored by your faith in us. Miss Dun- 
nington, and deeply grateful for your championship 
in our cause,” said Lionel, “but grieved beyond 
measure that Miss Richmond’s experience in love 
has been such as to impel her to condemn us all.” 

Love was piqued that he should imply that she 
had been jilted, and answered, with a pout that 
looked very pretty on her, — 

“ I have had no experience as yet : I judge from 
my observation of the love-afiairs of others.” 

“But,” persisted Lionel, “you told me to-day 
that you had just returned from the impenetrable 
walls of a boarding-school.” 

“Fairly caught. Miss Love,” cried Kate, gleefully; 
“so just confess your real sentiments, and ten to 
one but you are a firmer believer in the devoted 
love and unfaltering faith of mankind than your 
frank-spoken friend Kate Dunnington.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


71 


Could those ‘‘ impenetrable walls” have been en- 
dowed with the sense of speech, how many a love- 
passage they could have recounted! How many 
frightened girls had thrust their little trembling 
hands through the bars of the gate, to be pressed to 
the laughing lips of some audacious youth ! How 
many love-messages had been transmitted by myste- 
rious little notes, or through the agency of flowers, 
by the more timid or romantic ! The walls could 
not speak. Love would not, and it would be a breach 
of trust in us to do so. But to return to Love: she 
did not feel much pleased that they should think 
her the romantic little creature she really was; so 
she answered, with sturdy stubbornness, — 

“ I won’t confess that which I don’t believe, Kate 
Hunnington to the contrary notwitjistanding.” 

“You will at least except present company, Miss 
Richmond?” 

“Not even present company, Mr. Percy, until I 
am well assured that present company forms an 
exception to the general rule.” 

“But it is the ladies who are proverbially fickle.” 

“ They may be so,” she answered, quietly. 

“Do you think they are called so unjustly ?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“But you do.” 

“If I have been shut up in a boarding-school, 1 
have had no greater facilities for observing the 


72 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

ladies’ constancy in love than that of the gentle- 
men,” returned the wily diplomatist, who had been 
eagerly watching an opportunity for retorting on 
her opponents. 

“You are non-committal, I see. But can I, by 
either argument or action, convince you that your 
opinion concerning us is unjust ?” 

“I think not, Mr. Percy.” 

“If that is the case, I am silent,” 

“Never give up the ship, Percy,” cried Captain 
Clinton. “ Miss Richmond is too just and generous 
not to acknowledge an error when she is assured 
that it is an error ; and I am certain that you can 
convince her that this is one.” 

“ I will at some future time make the attempt, 
captain. And now, Miss Richmond, will you favor 
us with another song?” 

“With pleasure.” 

She sang song after song, at the earnest request 
of her companions ; and when Lionel bade the 
young improvvisatrice good-night he was more 
charmed than ever. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


73 


CHAPTER XI. 

Do any thing but love ; or, if thou lovest, 

And art a woman, hide thy love from him 
Whom thou dost worship. Never let him know 
How dear he is ; flit like a bird before him ; 

Lead him from tree to tree, from flower to flower, 

But be not won ; or thou wilt, like that bird 
When caught and caged, be left to pine neglected, 

And perish in forgetfulness. — Miss Landon. 

“Hews, Grace!” cried Love, as she entered the 
parlor where her sister sat sewing. She was accom- 
panied by Lionel, who had been for nearly three 
months her almost constant attendant. 

“Well, I am dying to hear it, as you young 
ladies say,” said Grace, smilingly. 

“Mrs. Shelby is dead, and Magdalen will be in 
Washington this week.” 

“Are you ill, Mrs. Heath ?” cried Lionel, in alarm, 
as her face grew pale. 

“I have not been well for two years past, Mr. 
Percy, and have been feeling even worse than usual 
•this morning.” 

He brought her a glass of water, and the color 

soon returned to her cheeks. 

7 


l'4 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

‘‘ Miss Love has been telling me, Mrs. Heath, that 
this same mourning Magdalen charms each and all 
who look upon her. Is she really so fascinating ?” 

‘‘She can win lover from mistress and husband 
from wife, if she willeth,” answered Grace, with an 
afiectation of that gayety she had worn as a mask 
for so long a time. 

“ She must be akin to the witches if she can wield 
such power. 

“ She is an elfish-looking creature, and, from the 
number of her suitors, is known as ‘ Magdalen the 
Enchantress.’ But, jesting aside, she is the most 
fascinating woman I ever saw. She possesses, in 
addition to unequalled beauty, a finely-cultivated 
mind and all the accomplishments that adorn 
womanhood.” 

“ But her heart, Mrs. Heath ? Has her heart been 
cultivated to as high a degree of perfection as her 
intellect?” 

“Ah, I cannot give so favorable a report in re- 
gard to her heart : it is said to be unsusceptible of 
cultivation. She has won many hearts, but hers is 
still unwon.” 

“Too bad! too bad!” 

“ I sympathize with you in your distress, but am 
surprised at your disappointment. All the coquettes 
I have ever known have been utterly devoid of all 
those beautiful attributes of the inner life which 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 75 

give a certain nameless attraction to even a homely 
woman if she he pure-hearted.*’ 

“I have known exceptions to the rule,” said 
Lionel, with a sly glance at Love. 

“ There may be exceptions, but they are certainly 
very rare.” 

“ I admit that they are so, and do not wish you to 
consider me a defender of that mischievous class of 
society. But to return to the ‘Enchantress:’ lam 
all curiosity to behold this singular creature.” 

“Be guarded; for she wins and breaks hearts 
with the graceful indifference of an adept in the 
murderous science.” Grace saw that her sister was 
learning to love Lionel with all the strength of her 
romantic nature, and trembled lest Magdalen 
should select him for a victim. 

“ She shall never win mine, much less break it,” 
said Lionel, defiantly. 

“Be not too well assured, fair sir. She has never 
failed to bewitch any one j^et, sooner or later. But 
you must excuse me for a time. I have lingered 
chatting with you to the utter neglect of my mani- 
fold household duties.” 

“Miss Love,” whispered Lionel, eagerly, as Grace 
turned from them, “if I resist the spells of the 
‘Enchantress,’ will you let that be the test of my 
unfaltering love for you ?” 

“Yes,” she answered; and she looked a little 


76 


MAGDALEX THE ENCHANTRESS. 


troubled when she remembered that tbe all-powerful 
Magdalen was likely to be her rival. 

‘‘ And will you promise me your band and heart 
if I remain true to you ?” 

“By no means,” she answered, coolly. “It mat- 
ters little to me whether you love her or not.” 

“ Eeally ?” 

“ Really.” 

He sighed, and dropped his head upon the table 
despondingl}^. 

Love smilingly laid her hand upon his dark hair, 
and said, softly, — 

“ Lionel !” 

He did not raise his head. 

“Lionel, I love you a little.” 

He looked up hopefully. 

“Dear Love !” 

“Indeed, I love you a great deal, as a friend.” 

“Hang your friendship!” He started up and 
walked rapidly through the room. 

“Lionel !” 

He had paused at the window, and would not hear 
her. 

She smiled again, and glided to his side. 

Lionel, I did not finish : I love you as a friend, 
and it may he that I will love you far better if you 
wish me.” 

He turned quickly. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


77 


“ Here have I been saying to you, a hundred 
times a day, ‘ Will you love me ?’ and you assure 
me as many times that you ‘won’t;’ that is the 
word, — ‘won’t;’ and now you come, wuth all the 
pretty artlessness imaginable, and say, ‘Lionel, I 
love you as a friend, and it may be that I will love 
you far better if you wish me.’ You are enough to 
drive any sensible man distracted !” 

“Am I? Then you are in no danger,” she said, 
demurely. 

“You are always saying,” he went on, without 
heeding the interruption, “ that Katie is a flirt, or 
Agatha’s a flirt; but you are the greatest flirt of 
them all !” 

“ Don’t get so excited, please, Lionel. Why do 
you allow yourself to be flirted with, if you know 
it?” 

“ Simply because I am a confounded fool, and 
can’t help it.” 

“Your reasons are good, and entirely satisfac- 
tory.” 

“I believe you think I really am a fool !” 

“ I cannot question your veracity ; and — ^you — do 
act ” 

“ A little foolishly at times ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ This is decidedly pleasant, — to be both flirted 

with and laughed at by your lady-love !” 

7 * 


78 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“I have neither flirted nor laughed at you, Lionel, 
and if I don’t love you I don’t love any one else : 
that is some consolation.” 

“ Consolation with a vengeance ! Here am I to 
he placed upon an equal footing with ‘Will Calvert 
and Jack O’Hiel, or any ” 

“ And if you are !” interrupted Love. They 
are noble, brave, and generous. Where is the in- 
equality?” 

“ There is none in your estimation, I clearly per- 
ceive. I have the honor to bid you a very good- 
morning ; and if you see me within a week your 
eyes will flash with pleasure. Lady Love.” 

He caught up his cap and hastily left the room. 

“ I wish I could tell him how dearly I love him,” 
murmured his tormentor; but the only way that I 
can preserve my treasure from that ogre Magdalen 
is to pretend that I do not value it. He will come 
this evening in penitence, and, as usual, I shall 
tease him, and he’ll leave in a pet. How can he 
be so blind as to doubt that I love him? Dear 
Lionel!” 

She had been watching his retreating figure from 
the window, and as he disappeared she turned away 
with a half-sigh, and murmured, dreamily,— 

“ Will he ever change ? Ho, no. What says the 
sweet song he sang but yesternight? Ah, I re- 
member : — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


79 


‘ The heart that has truly loved never forgets, 

But as truly loves on to the close ; 

As the sunflower turns ’ ” 

She ceased as her ear caught the sound of sup- 
pressed laughter, and, turning her eyes in the direc- 
tion whence it proceeded, they rested on the mis- 
chievous face of Kate Dunnington. 

“ So you are in love, and, as a matter of course, 
in trouble? I saw your lover rushing round corners 
at a mad pace a moment since, and knew that there 
had certainly been another quarrel. What is the 
trouble ?” 

“Why, he asked me if I loved him, and went 
away in a pet because I wouldn’t say yes.” 

“ But you do love him, and you may lose him by 
your trifling. Hearts are easily won and easily lost. 
Love. Be careful.” 

“Kever fear, Kate. If his heart is lost to me, 
mine will not break,” answered Love, proudly. 

“I am not certain,” said Kate, shaking her head. 
“ I think if Captain Clinton should flirt with me 
that mine would break; and yours, if I judge 
rightly, is scarcely less sensitive.” 

“Has it gone so far? Are you really engaged?” 
queried Love, with eager interest. 

“Yes; we are really engaged. And yet I can 
scarcely believe that he is serious in his professions 
of love, — I am so unworthy, so far beneath Aim.” 


80 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“ Beware of Magdalen.” 

‘‘I do not fear her,” said Kate, with alight laugh; 
‘‘ Captain Clinton is not fickle, and I toss back your 
warning : you may have need of it : beware of Mag- 
dalen.” 

And I answer, in your words, I do not fear her: 
Lionel is not fickle.” 

‘‘But, seriously. Love, you may drive him to her 
feet by your caprices. ' Why not confess that you 
love him ?” 

“ Because if I should do such a rash thing I 
might be left to wear the willow. You do not 
understand the human heart so well as I, Kate. So 
long as he is in doubt as to my feelings toward him, 
there is no danger of his deserting me even for 
Magdalen,” 

“ Time will determine whose system is best.” 

“ I shall triumph.” 

“ I think we should be enrolled in the diplomatic 
corps,” cried Kate, laughing in Love’s grave face. 
“But sit down. Love : I must tell you all about this 
love-affair of mine, as you are to be my first bride- 
maiden.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


81 


CHAPTER Xn. 


“ She has all 

That would insure an angel’s fall ; 

But there’s a cool, collected look, 

As if her pulses beat by book, — 

A measured tone, a cold reply, 

A management of voice and eye, 

A calm, possess’d, authentic air. 

That leaves a doubt of softness there.” 

The evening after Magdalen’s arrival she was 
called upon by Mr. and Mrs. Heath, Love, Kate, 
Captain Clinton, and Lionel. She looked unusually 
beautiful in her rich mourning-robes, and Captain 
Clinton was much impressed by the simple elegance 
displayed in both her dress and manner. Hot so 
Lionel. He whispered to Love, — 

‘‘I am disappointed in the ‘Enchantress.’ She is 
very much like you, only not half so lovely.” 

“Wait! Her beauty is her least charm. She 
does not owe her sobriquet of ‘ Enchantress’ to it, 
^ilthough she is certainly very lovely, — a great deal 
handsomer than I am.” 

“ Merely a difference of opinion I But I believe 
Clinton is being bewitched already. What beautiful 

eyes she has !” 
p 


82 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“I believe you are being bewitched as well,” said 
Love, who did not relish the tone in which her 
lover’s last exclamation had been made. 

“Do not fear: ‘ forewarned, forearmed !’ I owe 
my safety to you.” 

It was curious to note the changing expression of 
Magdalen’s eyes as she greeted her guests. They 
wore a tender, pleading look when she welcomed 
Grace, and seemed to say, ‘ Forgive and pity me.’ 
They flashed an afiectionate glance to Love and Kate, 
but changed to the expression of hopeless love 
which he so well remembered when she placed her 
hand in Neville’s. She acknowledged the presenta- 
tion of Captain Clinton and Lionel with a careless 
grace peculiarly her own, and then addressed her- 
self to Grace. 

“You are looking more delicate than when I 
parted from you, Mrs. Heath. Do you enjoy good 
health ?” 

Grace started at the question, but, instantly com- 
posing herself, answered, quietly, — 

“My health is not very good, Magdalen. I shall 
not live many years, I think.” 

All eyes were turned on Grace. Love noticed for 
the first time that her much-loved sister was looking 
paler and more fragile. The silence grew not only 
embarrassing, but oppressive to Magdalen, Grace, 
and Neville. The latter forced himself to say, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


83 


“Nonsense, Grace! You are getting nervous. I 
never knew you to be low-spirited until within the 
past week.” 

Magdalen hastened to change the topic of con- 
versation, and all soon felt at their ease. When they 
left. Love, Kate, and Lionel professed themselves 
bound to the chariot-wheels of the “Enchantress.” 
Captain Clinton walked beside Kate in silence, and, 
when she asked his opinion of Magdalen, simply 
answered, — 

“ I have seldom seen women so beautiful as she, — 
never one more beautiful.” 

Magdalen, being in mourning, mingled very little 
in gay society ; but her handsome drawing-room was 
always filled with the rank and beauty of the city. 
She exerted herself to please Love and Kate, and suc- 
ceeded in entirely gaining their hearts. She soon dis- 
covered that the last-named was the betrothed bride 
of the handsome naval oflicer, and the desire to add 
him to her list of suitors took instant possession of 
her scheming brain. When she heard that he was 
wealthy, she determined to marry him; for be it 
known that, although her fortune had been ample, 
she had dissipated the greater part of it while in 
Italy. 

She still held Neville in her cruel chains, and 
he forgot all his resolutions to overcome his love 
for her when in her presence. He had repeatedly 


84 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

assured her, since her return, that his heart was still 
hers; and his really noble and virtuous principles 
had been so perverted by this artful woman that he 
once said to her, — 

“You were right, Magdalen: Grace will not live 
many years, and then you will be mine.” 

She had been listening for an hour with clasped 
hands and upraised eyes to his love’s low tones ; but 
now she drew away as in horror, and answered, — 

“Never !” 

“ I do not understand you !” 

“ Understand, then, that I despise you for daring 
to insult me by asking my hand while yet bound 
by marriage-vows to another, and, further, that I will 
soon have the honor of being congratulated as a 
bride.” 

“Magdalen, you are jesting.” 

“I fear that it will prove a bitter jest to you,” she 
answered, with a laugh. 

“ K you speak truly, Magdalen, why did you not 
leave me to be happy in the delusion of loving 
Grace? Why have you made my life and hers 
wretched?” 

“Eevenge is sweet,” she answered, as she toyed 
carelessly with the rings that encircled her white 
fingers. 

“Eevenge! For what?” he asked, in astonish- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 85 

ment, wondering the while if she was not mad or 
he in a dream. 

“ I loved you once, lireville Heath, and you loved, 
or feigned to love, me. That waa-:s^hen we were 
almost children. Through someycapiice, you neg- 
lected me and turned to Grac# Bicmmond. I was 
almost broken-hearted when jmftmiarried her. Since 
your marriage I have hated the whole human race. 
It was a long, long time ere I succeeded in banish- 
ing all love for you from my heart; but I have at 
last succeeded : I do not love you.” 

“You do not love me ?” 

“I do not love you. Allow me to conclude 
this pleasant conference by bidding you a very good 
morning.” 

She made a low, stately curtsey and glided 
away. 

From this time he was utterly changed. To Grace 
he was no longer kind and affectionate, hut harsh 
and cruel. To all others he was gloomy and irri- 
table. This came as a heavy blow to Grace, al- 
though she had long felt assured that it would come 
sooner or later. 

“Her prophetic words are ever sounding in my 
ear: — ‘You- will live a most wretched life for a few 
years ; and then you will die by poison administered 
by the hand of your husband !’ This is more than 

I can bear. What great sin is on my soul, that I 
8 


86 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


* 

must be so terribly punished ? Oh, would I could 
die and be at rest!” Thus she would moan in the 
stillness of her own chamber. Love noticed JS’e- 
ville’s gloomyjMiqw and Grace’s tears, and wondered 
what could b^i^e^r quarrel. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTEESS. 


87 


CHAPTER Xni. 

Man, man, may cast aside affection 
Lightly as flower-wreaths, and coldly spurn 
The heart he has unvirgin’d. 

But woman, woman^ do believe me, hers 
Is not the love a shade may change, 

A breath annihilate ! — Ruth Rustic. 

‘‘Love Richmond tells me that Captain Clinton 
is a devout Catholic,” mused Magdalen. “Fortune 
favors me. It is well known that I visited Italy for 
the express purpose of investigating the Catholic 
faith ; and, although I am profoundly ignorant of 
the several beliefs of Catholicism, Protestantism, or 
Israelitism, I am a fervent Catholic so long as being 
one is likely to favor my plans.” 

“Mr. Henry Calvert,” was announced by a ser- 
vant ; and that young gentleman entered the room 
and greeted the lady with his usual provoking non- 
chalance, 

“Pardon me, my dear madam, that I have so long 
deferred visiting you.” 

“Pray do not put yourself to the least incon- 
venience to gratify me by calling. The fewer your 
visits ” 


88 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS, 

“The more acceptable. Ahem ! How is our love- 
affair progressing ?” 

“ Love-affair ? I do not understand you.’* 

“!N'one of your affectations of ignorance with me, 
Magdalen. You have not forgotten your 'penchant 
for Neville Heath ?” 

“ Bah ! A woman grows careless of a man’s love 
when it is too constant : at least I do. The game 
that I have meshed is not worth the trouble it has 
cost me to secure it. To speak plainly and to the 
point, I am off with the old love and 

“On with a new.” 

“You have a most disagreeable habit of assisting 
me to complete a sentence.” 

(with a gesture that made her eyes 
flash :) “ but this new love: who and what is he ?” 

“ I do not feel disposed to tell you. Indeed, I 
have not said that I have a new love.” 

“You had no need. I read the thoughts that 
flash through your mind as the printed pages of a 
book. Who is he ?” 

She writhed under the power that he exerted over 
her; but, hate and struggle against it as she would, 
he forced every thing from her. 

“It is Captain Clinton, if you will know.” 

“I suspected as much.” 

“Well?” 

“Do you love him ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 89 

“Love him? I^'o !” 

“Then why do you wish to marry him ?” 

“I have several reasons. Firstly, because he is 
not a man to he easily won ; secondly, because I do 
not care to live single longer; and ” 

“ Thirdly, because he is said to be worth several 
hundred thousand dollars, and the fair nun that 
was to be, instead of being immured in a convent 
at Kome, as was generally supposed, had contracted 
the fashionable vice of gambling, and was losing 
immense sums of money at the German watering- 
places. Pardon me : I cannot forbear my disagree- 
able habit, you see.” 

She was white and trembling. 

“How did you learn this ? Are you in league with 
the devil?” 

“ Certainly not. I have many ways of acquiring 
knowledge, without that questionable assistance. I 
am delighted with this sudden change in your views, 
I must confess. It is far better to marry Captain 
Clinton than to persist in your mad scheme of 
murdering Grace and marrying her husband.” 

“ You know that I never had the least intention 
of murdering Grace. It is your own vile heart that 
causes you to suspect me of contemplating such a 
horrible crime.” 

“Well, well, I am aware, at least, that it must be 

an unpleasant subject; and we will not continue it.- 
8 * 


90 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

How are you to proceed in order to capture this 
fortune?” 

“ I may use him,” she thought, — then said, aloud, 
“ Are you acquainted with him ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then you can assist me materially, if you will. 
In the course of conversation you can manage to 
make him aware of the fact that I am a recent con- 
vert to Catholicism.” 

“ So you are compelled to ask my assistance at 
the first step,” he said, regarding her admiringly. 
“ I think that we could not exist one without the 
other. I wish that you were possessed of wealth, 
and I would enter the lists as a suitor for your hand, 
and win it, proud lady,” he added, as her eyes 
sparkled with anger. 

“ You are a fool.” 

“ It is fortunate that you are poor, or I might be. 
What else can I do for you after conveying, by 
direct means or otherwise, the important informa- 
tion that you are a Catholic?” 

“ I require nothing further of you.” 

The conversation terminated, and he bowed 
carelessly and sauntered from the room. As the 
door closed, he smothered the laugh that rose to his 
lips, and muttered, — 

“ She is the fool.” 

A day or two after this interview, Calvert and 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


91 


Clinton called, with Love and Kate, for the purpose 
of spending an evening with Magdalen. 

“Captain Clinton,"’ said Calvert, in a pause of 
the conversation, “I have heard that you are a 
Catholic. ” 

“You have been rightly informed, sir: my an- 
cestors were Catholics, and I am proud to be able 
to say that not one of them changed their religion, 
although several died martyrs in its cause.” 

“ I am very glad to know, sir, that you are a 
Catholic,” murmured the sweet, low voice of Mag- 
dalen. “I, too, am a member of the Catholic 
Church.” 

“Ah?” he exclaimed, in a tone of pleased sur- 
prise. “ I was under the impression,” he continued, 
smiling and bowing to Love and Kate, “ that all my 
lady friends were heretics.” 

“ I became interested in Catholicism some years 
since, visited Italy for the purpose of investigating 
it, and soon became a convert.” 

“ Have you ever visited a convent. Miss Shelby?” 

“Oh, yes,” she answered, smiling: “I thought 
very seriously, at one time, of becoming a perma- 
nent inmate, but discovered, as we Catholics say, 
that I had mistaken my vocation.” 

“Is it possible ? But do you not think it a 
peaceful and happy life that these good women 
live ?” 


92 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“I do indeed. And have you ever observed how 
youthful they seem ? There was one little nun to 
whom I took quite a fancy, — Sister Dolores, — who 
was apparently twenty-five. One day I asked her, 
laughingly, if she were an old maid, and was in- 
formed, greatly to my astonishment, that she was 
old enough to be my mother. She had been placed 
in the convent as a pupil when a little child of three 
years. At fifteen she had completed her education 
and entered society. Two years after, at the age of 
seventeen, she joined the sisterhood, and for thirty- 
five years had not stepped beyond the convent- 
walls. I was incredulous.^ To convince me, she threw 
off her veil, and her closely-cut hair was almost 
entirely gray. I asked her why it was that the 
nuns looked so much younger than persons of the 
same age who were of the world. ‘ Ah, my child,’ 
she answered, half seriously, half jestingly, ‘we are 
free from the wearing cares and passions of the 
world ; or rather, instead of fretting for a ribbon or 
weeping for a ring, we save our tears to obliterate 
the stains of sin from our souls. Your tears cause 
you to grow old and ugly, while ours have a con- 
trary effect, and year by year we grow fairer and 
more youthful, until we become like the children 
He loveth so much.’ As I looked upon her calm 
face, I felt the full force of her remarks, and wished 
that I too was a nun.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 93 

“It strikes me forcibly,” said Kate, “that this 
fair bride of heaven was just the least bit vain.” 

Love perceived that her friend was treading on 
dangerous ground, and inquired, somewhat has- 
tily,— 

“ What did you say her name was, Magdalen ?” 

“Sister Dolores.” 

“An appropriate name for a grumpy, dolorous 
old nun,” laughed Kate. 

This was the first time that Kate had made the 
slightest attempt to ridicule her lover’s religion or 
any thing connected with it; and her words grated 
harshly upon his ear. Magdalen noted the efiect 
of poor Kate’s careless remark, and hastened to 
make capital of it by saying, reproachfully, — 

“They are neither dolorous nor grumpy, Kate, 
but the kindest and merriest creatures in exist- 
ence.” 

“Pardon me, both. If I have wounded you, it 
was through thoughtlessness,” said Kate, gently. 
“ I would not for the world speak lightly of the 
religion of any one.” 

“I pardon you,’,’ said Magdalen. 

“And you?” Kate raised her eyes to Captain 
Clinton’s, and their glance said, as plainly as words 
would have spoken, “ It is an idle question.” 

He answered, politely yet coldly, — 

“I forgive, but cannot forget.” 


94 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

She veiled the eyes that were fast filling with 
tears, and her heart grew heavy, for what she 
scarcely knew. There was an awkward silence, 
which was broken by Love : — 

Is it true. Captain Clinton, that there are 
Catholics who are opposed to the cloister nuns? I 
have heard that such is the case.” 

‘‘ There are many Catholics in the United States, 
I believe, who disapprove of a woman shutting her- 
self up in a nunnery ; but none object to the order 
of Sisters of Charity, where the vows are renewed 
every year.” 

“But do you approve of a woman entering a 
cloister ?” 

“ I freely confess. Miss Richmond, that the idea 
was a little repulsive to me at one time ; but my 
prejudice was removed by a nun to whom I had 
remarked that it seemed like being buried alive to 
be surrounded by convent-walls, and asked her why 
she did not become a Sister of Charity. She smiled 
and answered, ‘ I, like many women, would have 
become one of that noble sisterhood, but lacked 
their humility and saintly strength of character. I 
shrunk from entering hospitals, in times of war or 
pestilence, for the purpose of nursing men ; and I 
therefore entered a cloister. Some women are so 
constituted that they cannot do it, and I am one. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 95 

Are you satisfied V I expressed myself fully satis- 
fied, and hope that you will do the same.” 

I am too much of a Protestant, — or heretic, if you 
will. I merely wished to have your opinion on the 
subject.” 

“I think I will try to convert you,” he said. 

‘‘ It will be a waste of time to try. I am not easily 
influenced. I think you might succeed better with 
Kate.” 

He colored slightly to think he had been so 
neglectful, so forgetful of her, and crossed hastily to 
where she was sitting and bent over her. 

“Forgive me, Kate,” he whispered, “but your 
careless words wounded me deeply.” 

“ I am very sorry : forgive me,'' 

The cloud that had overshadowed her heart was 
lifted by those few words of his, and she soon 
laughed as lightly as ever. 

Magdalen was, after that night, a regular attend- 
ant at mass and vespers, and Captain Clinton was 
frequently her escort. As a matter of course, he 
soon fell deeply in love with the beautiful convert, 
and regretted the engagement he had made so 
hastily with Kate. 

If there was any change in his manner toward his 
betrothed, Kate was too happy, in the full assurance 
of his love, to perceive it. 


96 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Curse the tongue 

Whence slanderous rumor, like the adder’s drop, 

Distils her Tenom, withering friendship’s faith, 

Turning love’s favor ! — H illhousb. 

Magdalen had been in her own country about 
three months, when a gentleman of wealth and 
position issued cards for a masquerade. As it was 
generally understood that it would be a grand affair, 
all the young people were in a flutter of excitement. 
Only five days of preparation remained, and Love 
was still undecided in the choice of the celebrity 
she would personate. 

“Please assist me in a selection, Kate. It seems 
so vain and conceited to appear as Mary of Scot- 
land, Anna Boleyn, or any of the court-beauties 
of the olden time ; and I don’t like the idea of dis- 
figuring myself as a witch or sorceress. "Who shall 
I be ? that’s the question !” 

“What is the excitement. Love?” inquired Mag- 
dalen, who had entered with Agnes O’Xiel. 

“How are you, girls? I am delighted to see you. 
There is this masque almost here, and I don’t know 
what I’m to be.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


97 


“Take your guitar and go as a gypsy.” 

She whirled round and confronted the speaker, 
who was none other than Lionel, and made a face 
at him as he stood in the doorway. 

“Keep your advice until it is called for, sir.” 

“I gave it in all kindness, I am sure. You 
have been in such a fidget for a week past that 
your friends are seriously alarmed lest you go 
crazy.” 

“ When I am in need of your advice I will ask it. 
Well, Aggie, what say you ?” 

“I have no advice to offer on this momentous 
subject,” answered Agnes, with her rare and radiant 
smile. 

“I will depend on my own fancy, then. Magdalen, 
you must go as a Spanish donna.” 

“I shall not go at all. Love : I am still in mourn- 
ing. 

“It is now nearly a year, Magdalen, since your 
bereavement ; and if you are in mourning you can 
wear the black robe and mantle of the noble Spanish 
lady with perfect propriety. Please consent to be 
present.” 

“I will think about it. Love.” 

The night appointed for the masquerade at length 
arrived, and the guests began to assemble, at an 
earlier hour than usual, at the mansion of their 

entertainer. 

G 


9 


98 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Kate looked bewitching as “ Constance,” and Cap- 
tain Clinton accompanied her as ‘‘ Wildrake.” 

The captain seemed ill at ease in his finery, and 
was half ashamed of what seemed to him such 
foolery. 

Lionel looked ‘‘Charles the Second of Spain” to 
perfection. Love had acted on his laughing sug- 
gestion, and wore the gay petticoat and jacket of a 
gypsy maiden. 

Henry Calvert’s brilliant court-dress contrasted 
strikingly with Magdalen’s rich black robes, as did 
that of Clarence with Agnes’s demure Quaker attire. 

Many of the disguises were so complete that some 
queer incidents occurred, and numerous mistakes 
were made during the evening. 

When the evening was half spent. Captain Clin- 
ton, who no longer experienced pleasure in being 
near Kate, wandered into the conservatory, seated 
himself in a quiet nook, and was soon buried in his 
own wild and troubled dreams. 

Magdalen had gained such an ascendancy over his 
imagination — we cannot write heart — ^that she could 
draw him to her side with a glance and repel him 
with a motion of her hand. He was completely 
captive to her magic influence. Yet he was too 
high-souled to break with his betrothed without the 
shadow of a cause ; and he knew that she had given 
him none. So absorbed was he in reverie that he 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 99 

was not aware a lady and gentleman had entered 
the conservatory and seated themselves near him, 
until his heart thrilled to the lute-toned voice of 
Magdalen. He started, and leaned eagerly toward 
them, that he might not lose a sound that issued 
from her lips. 

“But does he love Kate Dunnington?” inquired 
her companion, who was none other than Henry 
Calvert, in response to something she had said. 

“He must love her, or he would not hesitate in 
breaking the engagement existing between them. 
He would have me think he loves me ; but how can 
I, when the day is fast approaching that will make 
her his bride and me sad-hearted?” 

He forgot every thing when the sad music of her 
loved tones were sounding in his ear, and made a 
silent vow that he would hesitate no longer, but ask 
her to be his wife that very evening. 

“Have you so little pride, Magdalen, as to be won 
unsought ?” 

“I have not been won unsought. He would have 
me believe that his love is mine only ; and, alas, I 
believe him when he is with me, and weep when he 
is gone.” 

“ If it is as you say, it may be that you wrong 
Clinton by doubting his love for you. His ideas 
of honor are peculiar; and it is probable that he 
thinks it dishonorable to ask a release from Kate, 


100 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

while I think it not only dishonorable but base to 
wed her while he not only does not love her but 
is actually in love with you.” 

“ Hush, Henry : he will be the victim, not Kate.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Simply what I say. Every one knows that it 
has been Kate’s boast that she is a coquette ; and it 
grieves and angers me when I hear him laughed at 
as being a blind fool not to see that she would 
never dream of marrying him were it not for his 
wealth.” 

“Why do you not hint as much to him?” 

“Because it would seem like a lack of delicacy 
in me, and I would rather never see his face than 
lose his respect and esteem.” 

He heard no more, for they arose and passed into 
the ball-room. 

“Ha! ha!” laughed Calvert, as soon as they were 
beyond hearing, “I think this last little ruse has 
won the field. I congratulate you on your success 
in defeating your rival ; and further, as my part is 
played, I will make my exit, and will inflict my dis- 
agreeable presence on you no more until I greet 
you as Mrs. Clinton. Then I shall claim my re- 
ward.” 

“Ha!” ejaculated Magdalen; and a gleam of 
light flashed through her mind for the first time. 

“You seem astonished; and, for once in your de- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 101 

ceptive life, you seem what you really are. Did you 
think for an instant that a man would degrade him- 
self by being a party to such detestable plots as 
those wherein I have aided you, without some inte- 
rested motive ? You are completely in my power 
now. I have made this match, and I can break it.” 

“You cannot. I defy you to attempt it. His 
heart is mine ; and Kate Dunnington is said to be 
a flirt ; and last, though not least, she is poor, while 
I am thought to be a wealthy heiress. We have 
given him the impression that she is scheming for 
his wealth, and he will not hesitate to break the 
engagement. You are wont to be more cautious: 
I wonder you did not make your bargain ere you 
performed the labor. Her want of wealth was the 
card upon which I relied.” 

“And it has failed you. She is far wealthier than 
either or both of you.” 

“You are speaking falsely.” 

“I am speaking truly. Will you give me five 
thousand dollars, or shall I expose you? Kate Dun- 
nington may have been a flirt ; but that she loves 
Clinton deeply I am convinced, and doubt not that 
she would give me twice the sum I ask of you to 
preserve him from you.” 

“ Fool ! You know that she would blast you with 
a glance, were it possible, if you dared to propose 
such a thing to her.” 


9 * 


102 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“ True. All ladies are not ” 

“ I know what you would say,” she interrupted, 
angrily; “and, to be rid of your hated presence, I 
agree to your terms.” 

“And they are moderate. Here I give you a 
wealthy and handsome husband. There is another 
consideration, too, which is by no means a slight 
one in your eyes, if I judge rightly. The perils of 
the sea are many, and it may be that in a few years 
you will be left free, as a dashing young widow, to 
prosecute your old plot.” 

“What now?” she asked, impatiently. 

“ You may deceive hTeville Heath by telling him 
that you do not love him ; but you cannot deceive 
me. You know that you look forward to the time 
when you will be his wife.” 

“Will you sing for me. Miss Shelby?” 

She started fearfully, for she recognised the voice 
of Captain Clinton. Turning, she perceived that he 
had unmasked. 

“I will sing with pleasure, if it will prove a 
gratification to you.” 

Calvert bowed, turned away, and Captain Clinton 
conducted Magdalen to the’ rtiusic-room. 

“ Shall I sing one of Love’s compositions?” 

He had proposed singing for the purpose of see- 
ing her alone, and, caring little what she sang, 
answered, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


103 


As you please.” 

She possessed a fine voice, which had been care- 
fully cultivated, and she threw her whole soul into 
the song: — 

Oh, say, dost thou remember, love, 

Those happy times of old. 

When you and I were one in heart, ' 

And never proud and cold ? 

Ah, thou dost not remember, love, " . ; 

Those wildly-witching hours 
When we, as blushing lovers, Hal, 

Gather’d Love’s sweetest flowers ! 

The bridal bells are ringing, love. 

But I am not the bride ; 

Thou art kneeling at the altar 
With a dearer by thy side. 

And, now that thou art wedded, love, 

I e’en must hide the tears 
That must lie heavy on my heart 
Through many coming years. 

, My heart is sadly crush’d, sweet love ; 

The future’s drear and cold ; 

And yet I glory that thy heart 
Was mine in days of old. , 

She sang the concluding stanza in tones thrill- 
ingly triumphant; but when she turned her face 
to her lover bright tears were glittering in her 
eyes. 

“ It will be my fate to deeply feel that little song 
when I sing it again,” she said, trying to smile; but 


104 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


the smile was, as she wished it, heart-breaking in 
its sadness. 

“ Never, Magdalen, if I can prevent it, shall you 
feel that the light of your life has faded. You have 
known, for some time past, that I loved you, and 
also of my perplexing engagement to another. 
Had she been the guileless, childlike creature I 
deemed her, I would have made her my wife and 
kept her forever in ignorance of the fact that I did 
not love her. I now know her to be false and mer- 
cenary, and I am free to ask your hand : will you 
give it to me, Magdalen?” 

Her eyes flashed a glance of glad surprise into his, 
and she answered, — 

“I love you.” 

“Wear this,” he said, placing a ring, set with 
a single diamond of exceeding brilliancy, on the 
third Anger of her left hand, “until I guard it 
with the plain gold ring that will bind our hearts 
forever.” 

As he bowed his head to kiss her hand, she 
smiled in bitter scorn ; but she changed the expres- 
sion of the smile when he raised it. 

Kate entered a moment after, utterly unconscious 
of the game that had been played. She approached 
them, and laid her hand upon Captain Clinton’s 
arm with a childish tenderness peculiar to her, and 
cried, laughingly, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


105 


‘‘ Sweet ladye of wile and witchery, I pray thee, 
weave no’ spells around this heart; for know ye 
that I yield it not, even to ‘ Magdalen the En- 
chantress.* How lovely you are to-night, dear 
Magdalen !” The innocent girl passed her arms 
around the waist and kissed the crimson lips of 
her enemy ; then, with a bow and smile to her be- 
trothed, she flitted like a bird away. 


106 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XV. 

“ When the cold breath of sorrow is sweeping 
O’er the chords of the youthful heart, 

And the earnest eye, dimm’d with strange weeping. 
Sees the visions of fancy depart ; 

When the bloom of young feeling is dying. 

And the heart throbs with passion’s fierce strife. 
When our sad days are wasted in sighing, 

Who then can find sweetness in life 1” 


Half buried in the yielding cushions of a large 
arm-chair drawn near a brilliant coal fire, Kate 
Dunnington reclined, her little head filled with a 
hundred girlish dreams, — which, judging from the 
drooping lashes, softly-flushed cheeks, and smiling 
mouth, were any thing but unpleasant. She re- 
mained perfectly motionless until a hand was laid 
on her head, and a dear voice cried, cheerily, — 

“ Lights and slippers, my dear.” 

‘‘You here already, papa?” 

The graceful little figure sprang from the chair, 
and her father was speedily ensconced therein. She 
drew a low chair to his side, and was about to throw 
herself upon it, when she was arrested by her 
father ; — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


107 


“Lights, puss.” 

“ Oh, not yet, please, papa.” 

“ Just as you say, my love. But I thought you 
would want to read your letter ” 

He was silenced by a slight blow saucily adminis- 
tered by the white hand of Catherine. The next 
instant a soft light diffused itself through the room, 
and Kate seated herself by the table and broke the 
seal with trembling eagerness, for she recognised 
the chirography as that of Captain Clinton. We 
transcribe the contents : — 

“Miss Catherine Bennington: — It has always 
seemed somewhat inexplicable to me that a fair 
young girl like you should give her youth, beauty, 
and love to a man twelve years her senior; yet 
when I gazed into your innocent eyes I could not 
doubt your sincerity. How have I been deceived ! 
Last night I was convinced, beyond a doubt, that 
my only attractions in your eyes were my wealth 
and rank. It has been intimated to me that you 
would be glad to have the opportunity to prosecute 
me for a breach of promise of marriage, by such 
means escape a hated marriage, and at the same 
time receive pecuniary advantages at the slight 
sacrifice of maidenly modesty and delicacy. To 
spare you and myself any such unpleasant notoriety, 
I place at your disposal one-fourth of my fortune, — 


108 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

twenty-five thousand dollars, — hoping you will be 
satisfied. 

“ In conclusion, I have the honor and pleasure to 
state that a month hence I shall wed a lovely and 
true-hearted woman, with whom my fortune can be 
no temptation, as hers far exceeds mine. The lady 
to whom I refer is Miss Magdalen Shelby. 

‘‘Yours, &c., 

“ Charles Clinton.” 

Kate’s face grew pale as she perused this cruel 
and insulting letter ; but, with an exertion of will, 
she had strength to read it to the close, then noise- 
lessly leave the room. When she reached her own 
chamber she locked the door and threw herself on 
the bed, exclaiming, — 

“ He is in the toils of the siren ! I never believed 
what they said of you, Magdalen; I could not; 
but now you have won him from me, and my 
heart will break. Who could have told him that I 
would seek redress for a broken troth in a court of 
law ? Surely not Magdalen. I could convince him 
by a few words that his wealth was no object with 
me; but shall I give utterance to those words? 
Kever! never!” 

She folded her hands over her eyes in silent 
thought for a little while, and then arose, and, seat- 
ing herself at her writing-desk, replied to his letter. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


109 


“ Captain Clinton : — Your very nature must be 
transformed by the charms of the ‘ Enchantress,’ or 
you would never have written the insulting epistle 
I have but just read. You do me great injustice 
when you accuse me of feigning love for the sake 
of your gold. I never knew, until to-night, that 
you were richer than myself; I never thought 
whether you were possessed of wealth or not. I 
believed you noble and honorable, and so gave you 
my heart, knowing that my love for you made me 
worthy to be your wife. 

“Yours, &c., 

“ Catherine Dunnington. 

“ P.S. — ^You know that the pith of a lady’s letter 
is always contained in the postscript: I forgot to 
release you from your engagement with me, and to 
congratulate you on your new arrangements. Allow 
me to do both Kate.” 

“ That will do,” she murmured, as she sealed and 
addressed it. “ I must deceive him and the gossip- 
ing world.” 

She smoothed her disarranged dress and joined 
her father in the parlor. He was too much occu- 
pied with his own thoughts to observe the traces of 
suffering still remaining on his daughter’s face, and 
she could not trust herself just then to tell him her 
trouble. 


10 


110 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


After tea she gave the letter she had written to a 
servant, and said, — 

“ Take this note to Captain Clinton, George, and 
place it in his own hands. There is no answer.” 

‘‘Oh, Missy Katie say, ‘Ko answer, George.' 
Marse Cap’in say, ‘Wait, boy,’ — purty old boy, 
Missy Katie, but not de old boy, — ‘ this requires an 
answer.’ Den Marse Cap’in scratch, scratch, — 
portry, ’spects, — but you knows,” nodding his head 
and chuckling significantly. “ Then Marse Cap’in 
pat nigger on he shoulder, and say, ‘ You’re a faith- 
ful fellow, and think a great deal of your mistress, I 
expect.’ Den I stupid as a bat, an’ say, ‘Laws, 
Marse Cap’in, ole Miss died long ’go, when I was a 
picinin, an’ Missy Katie knee-high to a grasshopper : 
but I ’veres an’ ’spects her mem’ry.’ Den Marse 
Cap’in laugh, and pat nigger ’gin, and say, ‘ But 
you think great deal of Miss Kate?’ Den I 
strikes a featrical attitude, puts my hand on my 
heart, and bows low to a ’maginary Missy Katie, 
an’ say, ‘ Missy Katie is de mos’ ’lectual, mos’ ’telli- 
gent, mos’ ’ligious, mos’ ’complished, and bestest 
young lady on de ’rest’ial globe, or in de District of 
Columby, an’ gosh-a-mighty ! — ’sense me, Marse 
Cap’n, — she’s got just de han’somest gen’lman for a 
beau !’ Den Marse Cap’in laugh ’gin, an’ ’wards 
my ’sessful speech with ’ristocratic gold, ‘ to buy an 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. Ill 

apron for your sweetheart;’ den I knows he’s 
quality, an’ good enough for my Missy Katie.” 

Kate smiled faintly when the servant concluded, 
and said, — 

“I thank you for your appreciation of Captain 
Clinton and myself ; hut you must not wait for an 
answer to-night.” 

“Kot if Marse Cap’in say wait?” 

“Kot even if the captain should say to wait.” 

“ Berry well : just as you say, Missy Katie,” said 
the man, with a downcast, disappointed look. “I 
’spects you’s had a quarrel?” 

“Kot exactly a quarrel, George.” 

“I ’spects you has. Missy Katie,” persisted 
George, with a troubled look. 

“ Do not wait longer, George. I am anxious for 
Captain Clinton to receive the letter. Go.” 

She re-entered the parlor and seated herself be- 
side her father. 

“Papa.” 

“ Well, my child?” 

“ The engagement between Captain Clinton and 
myself has been broken.” 

“ Impossible ! For what reason ?” 

“ Some one told him that it was his wealth and 
rank that charmed me, and not himself. And so 
he wrote me a cruel, cruel letter, charging me with 
deceit and insincerity, and— and, further, insulted me 


112 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

by saying that be placed one-fourth of the wealth I 
coveted at ray disposal, as he feared being prose- 
cuted for breach of promise of marriage. Oh, 
father !’' 

She had spoken calmly at first ; but her voice fal- 
tered as she went on, and when she had spoken the 
last words she dropped her head upon her father’s 
knee and wept convulsively. 

Mr. Dunnington started to his feet, exclaiming, — 
The base, cowardly scoundrel ! What a deep 
satisfaction it will afibrd me to bury a bullet in his 
black heart!” 

“N'o, no, no! oh, father, no!” she implored, cling- 
ing about him. “I shall be, oh, so bright and 
happy, and the world shall think that I have dis- 
carded him; but, should you do this mad act you 
threaten, I should die.” 

Mr. Dunnington well knew the shrinking delicacy 
of his daughter’s nature, and feared that if this 
affair should be the city gossip it might, indeed, 
kill her. He therefore kissed her wet face, saying, 
tenderly, — 

“ I will be guided by you, my daughter. Only 
assure me that you hate and despise the hound !” 

“Oh, father, I would I could! I love him yet, 
and his baseness has almost broken my heart.” 

She felt his form quiver with passion, and she 
hastened to say, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 113 

“ Eemember that you have promised to seek no 
vengeance.” 

“And do you bind me to this promise through 
pride or through love ?” 

“Through pride, father, — oh, believe, — through 
pride.” 

“ I have full confidence in your truth, my love. 
And now, can you tell how this has been brought 
about?” 

“ I can guess, papa. I neglected to tell you that 
he wrote that he is to be married in a month to 
Magdalen Shelby.” 

“ Curse her ! That girl brings misery to all she 
approaches.” 

Kate looked at him in inquiring astonishment. 

“ I have often heard, papa, that Magdalen took 
delight in wiling away the lovers of her friends ; but 
I never dreamed that she would blight my love-life, 
thinking that she loved me too well.” 

“ Child, you do not know her. Ko one has an 
idea of the diablerie of her nature, save her rejected 
lovers. She loves no one but herself. I can almost 
pity Clinton, for I have writhed under her spells.” 

“You, papa?” 

“ Yes, I, Kate. She led me on to a declaration 
for the sole purpose of rejecting and ridiculing me. 
She said that she was at enmity with all mankind 

and would work them all the woe she could. ‘ The 
H 10* 


114 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 

heart of man is as wax in my hands,’ she said, ‘as 
you know from pleasant experience ; and lovers shall 
hate their lady-loves, and husbands their wives, and 
all for love of “Magdalen the Enchantress.” ’ Have 
you any idea whether she intends to marry Clin- 
ton ?” 

“ If she is what you say, it is utterly impossible to 
tell what she intends.” 

“ Should she not, would you listen to him again ?” 

“Hever !” 

“ And now, daughter, you had better go to your 
room and try to dream away this sorrow. Good- 
night.” 

He led her to the door, kissed and dismissed her. 

As she was ascending the stairs, the hall-door was 
opened, and George entered. She motioned him to 
be silent and to come to her. 

“ Well, George, did you see Captain Clinton ?” 

“Yes, missy.” 

“ What detained you so long ?” 

“Well, Missy Katie,” answered the man, with 
some hesitancy, “ I went to his boardin’-house an’ 
’quired for him, but he warn’t there. ‘ Well, Dinah,’ 
said I to de gal dat ’tended de door, ‘my young 
missy gim me a letter, and say I mus’ gib it to de 
cap’in : so if you will just gim me a hint I’ll foller 
in his tracks.’ ” 

“ Go on,” said Kate, as the man again hesitated. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 115 

“ I begs you to ’scuse me, Missy Katie. When I 
axed for dat hint, dat nigger gal, who is spiteful on 
’count oh my ’tentions to a more beautifuller young 
lady ob color, gib a ’licious grin, and say, ‘I reckon. 
Mister George, if you’ll hab sense enough to foller 
your nose till you git to Miss Magdalen Shelby’s, 
you’ll find de cap’in; he dare all de time he’s 
not at home or at your house. De cap’in’s a gay 
’ceiver, I’se a-thinkin’, and I’se sartain shore he’s 
goin’ to jilt your young mistress.’ This ’suitin’ 
speech riz my dander; but I ’trolled my virtuous 
indignation, and said, sort o’ cool an’ smilin’ like, 
‘ You’s laborin’ under’ a ’stake. Miss Dinah. My 
young lady has kicked de cap’in, and dis little 
dockement is to tell him de noos.’ I gib her about 
ten seconds to ’gest dat ’munication, and ’tinned, 
‘You’s ’ware. Miss Dinah, dat I’se been studyin’ de 
high an’ manly art ob self-defence, an’ I’se about to 
put de feory into practice for de fust time, you 
derned black nigger wench !’ Wi’ dat, I brung her 
a back-handed lick ober de nose, an’ a scientific half- 
kick, half-twist ob de shins, dat wilted de young 
lady down like a wet dish-rag. Well, dat gal 
squealed wuss dan sister Sal did de time de crab 
cotched her by de heel, on de Eastern Shore. Dat 
nigger wench ob a Dinah ’larmed de whole neigh- 
borhood, hollerin’ ‘fire’ and ‘ murder,’ and I took to 
my heels, an’ neber stopped runnin’ till I got to Miss 


116 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Magdalen’s. I made de ole knocker ring, I was in 
suck a hurry to get to some shelter. When de gal 
cum to de door, she ’vited me into de hall to wait 
till she could tell de cap’in dat I wanted to see him. 
‘ Let the man come in,’ said Miss Magdalen, in her 
smooth voice. I went into de parlor, an’ she was 
a-sittin’ at de piano an’ he a-leanin’ ober her. When 
he saw it was me, he ’peared sort o’ ’fused like, an’ 
cum ober by de door where I was standin’, an’ say, 
‘ Ah, George, is it you ? How is Miss Kate ?’ 
‘ Berry well, cap’in, berry well indeed. ’Member my 
words, cap’in, she’s worth a tousan’ “’Chantresses,” 
as you’ll find to your sorrow some day. An’ I’d 
’vise you, cap’in, if ole marse should eber find out 
dat you’s been playin’ double for fun, to keep out 
ob his sight, for he’s de berry debil ’bout Missy 
Katie.’ His face turned white an’ red, but he tried 
to laugh, as he took a dollar from his pocket-book 
an’ offered it to me. I made out as dough I didn’t 
see it, made my bow, an’ here I is.” 

‘‘ Oh, Magdalen, thou art rightly named the ‘ En- 
chantress,’ ” murmured Kate. 

“ Hat’s what white folks calls her, ‘ Magdalen de 
’Chantress;’ but niggers say she ‘Magdalen de 
Hebil.’ ” 

“You are a good and faithful servant, George. 
I will remember you in my will. Good-night.” 

She held forth her hand to him with a faint smile. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


117 


He took it reverently in his great black fingers and 
kissed it, saying, — 

“ Dis nigger born an* bred in de family, — libed 
thirty years in de family, — an’ please ’Mighty God, 
dis nigger ’ll fight and die in de family. An’ 
George ’ll be faithful. Missy Katie, if all de res’ ob 
de world is ’ceitful.” 

“ I believe you, George ; but there is papa’s bell. 
Go.” 

He bowed and went down-stairs, and Kate, sad- 
hearted, sought her room. 


118 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XVI. . 

Just place your hand near to my heart : 

How wild its pulses beat ! 

They’ll soon be still, — I know they will, — 

And then my sleep how sweet! — J ohn Hewitt. 

Kate scarce realized her great sorrow until she 
met Captain Clinton and Magdalen at a party at 
Mr. Kichmond’s. It required all of her pride to 
enable her to sustain her wonted air of coquettish 
carelessness, when she saw how entirely Captain 
Clinton was absorbed by his betrothed bride, whose 
brilliantly beautiful face seemed radiant with hap- 
piness. 

‘‘Kate Dunnington has jilted the elegant cap- 
tain,” was whispered from one to another. 

“Yes: isn’t she the most complete flirt you ever 
saw?” 

“Yes,” responded another, with a laugh ; “ and the 
captain pretends to be dying in love with Magda- 
len. But that game has been played too often by 
the masculines to deceive us.” 

When Kate was charged by her young compa- 
nions with leaving the gallant captain to wear the 
willow, she would reply, laughingly, — 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 119 

“I verily believe that it is my nature to break 
hearts. Some spiritual force impels me, and I can- 
not resist its subtle influence.” 

“But why did you not accept the captain? I 
know he was wild about you,” said Love, who was 
seated at the piano. “By-the-w’ay,” she continued, 
“do you remember that you confided a secret to 
me a short time since ? You did not deceive me, 
though: I had a shrewd suspicion at the time that 
the love-story was a pretty fiction. I have been 
hoaxed too often by such stories to put any faith 
in you. Ah, Kate, you are a sad flirt, I fear.” 

“He was just ten years too old to suit me, Love ; 
and as for his broken heart, it will soon be mended 
by the magic spells of the ‘Enchantress.’ ” 

“Don’t talk so lightly of broken hearts, my 
Katie: yours may break yet,” laughed Love. 

“Think you that there is danger of my heart 
breaking ? Mine f Ha ! ha ! ha !” 

An old gentleman who was standing near laid 
his hand on Kate’s head, and said, gently, but 
gravely,— 

“Lighter hearts than yours in its lightest mo- 
ments have broken, my 6hild.” 

“Listen, my Kate,” said Love: “this is for your 
especial benefit: — 

“ Brighter eyes than thine, sweet Katie, 

Brighter eyes than thine, 


120 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Oftentimes have dimm’d with weeping 
Over love’s decline. 

Sweet Katie 1 
Over love’s decline. 

“ Redder lips than thine, fair Katie, 

Redder lips than thine, 

Have been known to pale and quiver, 

All for love divine. 

Fair Katie ! 

All for love divine. 

“ Lighter hearts than thine, bright Katie, 

Lighter hearts than thine. 

Have been laid, all crush’d and broken. 

On love’s fickle shrine. 

Bright Katie I 
On love’s fickle shrine.” 

“Your song has almost frightened me from my 
wicked ways, Love.” 

“You had better turn from them, Katie,” re- 
sponded Love, in the same tone. 

“They little dream how nearly broken-hearted I 
am,” thought Kate ; “ nor shall they.” 

Once during the evening her faithless lover asked 
her to dance, and she laughed and chatted so like 
a little flirt that his suspicions of her interested 
motives in regard to himself were confirmed. And 
he was glad that it was so; for, notwithstanding 
Magdalen’s influence over him, he could not help 
feeling contempt for himself. ' 

“ I was but too glad to believe her unworthy,” he 
had said, more than once ; “ and I committed a hasty 
and unmanly act when I wrote that letter.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 121 

“Miss Dunnington,” he said, in a pause of the 
quadrille, “ I have sought this interview for the pur- 
pose of apologizing for any thing I may have writ- 
ten when angry and excited.” 

“Pray, Captain Clinton,” said Kate, playfully 
putting her hand over his mouth, “ do not mention 
any thing about that : positively, I have almost for- 
gotten the contents of your letter and mine. But, 
pray, who put it into your dear old head that I would 
sue you for breach of promise of marriage ? Ha ! ha ! 
Why, it is known all over Washington that, when I 
attain my majority, I shall come into possession of 
one of the finest estates in Virginia, which was left 
me by a grand-aunt. Sue you for breach of pro- 
mise ! Ha ! ha ! ha !” 

“ What amuses you. Miss Kate ?” inquired Lionel 
Percy, who, with Love as a partner, was her vis-cL-vis, 

“Why, Captain Clinton is going to sue me for 
breach of promise — I mean, I intend to sue him: 
indeed, I scarce know what I mean. Pray explain, 
captain, ha! ha! ha!” 

“You have not succeeded so well as usual, Mag- 
dalen,” whispered Henry Calvert, as Kate’s gay 
laughter rang through the room. “ Your defeated 
rivals usually suffer more.” 

“You are mistaken. Kate Dunnington’s beset- 
ting sin is pride ; and she suffers far more than she 

would were she to weep and rave. She is a far 
11 


122 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


better actress than I thought her, however, and she 
might regain her lost love if ” 

“ She had as little pride as you.” 

‘‘She would assume another r6^,” concluded 
Magdalen, without heeding the interruption. 

“Magdalen, why don’t you fascinate me?” 

“ I can if I will,” she answered, raising her defiant 
eyes. 

“Bah ! I^either your eyes nor witcheries can be- 
wilder me: when the devil once unmasks, we are 
hardly such fools as to yield to his power, let him 
charm as he will.” 

“ You are disposed to institute polite and elegant 
comparisons.” 

He taunted her until she was mad with passion, 
and, losing her customary self-control, cried, — 

“ If you continue to insult me, I will kill you.” 

“ I doubt not that you have the will, sweet ; but 
I shall take good care that you do not have the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


123 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Softly! 

She is lying, 

With her lips apart ; 

Softly ! 

She is dying 

Of a broken heart I 

Charles J. Eastman. 

Time fled, and the day appointed for Magdalen’s 
marriage arrived. Immediately after the ceremony, 
which was to take place in St. Patrick’s Church, the 
bridal party was to leave for Tennessee, at the 
bride’s particular request, to visit Captain Clinton’s 
relatives, who were residents of that State. 

Kate had borne up bravely until the wedding- 
morn. Feeling unequal to the task of attending, 
she had absented herself under the convenient plea 
of a slight indisposition, and, seating herself at her 
chamber-window, she w^aited in feverish expectation 
of the cortege. As the carriage containing the bride 
and bridegroom rolled past, she threw herself upon 
the floor, and screamed, in heart-thrilling accents, 
Oh, father ! father ! the carriage-wheels are cut- 
ting through my heart !” 


124 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

When George, startled by her cry, ran into the 
room, he found her still lying where she had fallen. 
He lifted her gently from the floor and laid her on 
the bed, when he discovered that there was blood 
upon her lips and hand. He sent a servant for his 
master, another for Dr. Linton, and then stood over 
her, wiping away the blood as it oozed through her 
white lips. 

In a few moments the door was thrown open, 
and Mr. Dunnington entered and stood beside the 
bed. 

“ Kate, my daughter, my dear little Kate, speak 
to me.” 

She raised her soft eyes, hopeless and despairing 
now, and murmured, — 

“Oh, papa, as they passed I felt a sharp pain 
here,” (laying her hand on her bosom,) “ that felt 
as if the wheels had cut through my heart.” 

“ My poor child! my poor broken-hearted child!” 
he said ; then, turning to Dr. Linton, “ Will she re- 
cover from this, sir ?” 

“ There is no great present danger, Mr. Dunning- 
ton,” answered the physician, trying to speak hope- 
fully, “but you are aware that your daughter in- 
herits her mother’s delicacy of constitution, and 
it is possible consumption may be developed by 
this mental emotion, whatever it may be, unless the 
cause is removed.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 125 

‘‘I fear that it cannot be removed, doctor; and 
then?” 

“It were a cruel kindness to deceive you, sir. 
Under such circumstances, there would be room for 
but little hope.” 

Mr. Dunnington sank his head upon the couch 
and wept. 

“ Please don’t, papa: it hurts me,” said Kate, lay- 
ing her blood-stained hand upon his bowed head. 

He thought only of ministering to his daughter’s 
comfort, and calmed himself. ' 

“ What can I do for you, my child ?” 

“ Send for Love, please : I want Love.” 

“She means Miss Eichmond,” said the physician. 
“ I am going up to the church to ” 

Mr. Dunnington stopped him by a sign. Dr. 
Linton gazed at him inquiringly. 

“ Clinton won her love,” explained Mr. Dunning- 
ton, drawing the physician aside, “and they were 
engaged to be married, when that devilish Magda- 
len, with her damnable arts, caused him to break 
the engagement. This was only a month ago ; and 
now they are married. Tell Miss Richmond this, 
for neither this marriage nor the parties imme- 
diately interested must be referred to in Kate’s pre- 
sence. To all others, be silent.” 

When Love entered Kate’s room, the hemorrhage 

had ceased, and the suffering girl was sweetly sleep- 
11 * 


126 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

ing. Love had been greatly shocked when Dr. 
Linton had related to her all that Mr. Dunnington 
had discovered to him; and she could not realize 
that it was true, until she stood beside Kate’s sick- 
bed and gazed upon her pale face. 

“My poor Katie,” she said, “ I might have known 
that the wild laughter, the radiant eyes and crimson 
cheeks of the past month were not caused by per- 
fect health of body and buoyancy of spirit. Strange 
that I did not perceive they were used as a mask to 
hide some heart-wound ! I might have known ! 
And Magdalen ! — I shall never trust another wo- 
man !” 

In three or four days Kate was far enough re- 
covered to be about; but in a few weeks she had a 
second hemorrhage, and from that time her father 
knew that she must die. The soft flush on her 
cheeks deepened into a vivid crimson, and the faint 
cough, that ever falls on the ear like a knell, grew 
more frequent. 

When Love, in answer to Kate’s eager inquiries, 
assured her that no one suspected the real cause of 
her illness, she smiled with a partial return of her 
olden brightness, and cried, — 

“ I have out-generalled them !” 

Her father saw the rapid approach of the de- 
stroyer, and his passionate, almost impious, ravings 
distressed her greatly. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 127 

‘‘ Papa, when I am dead you will love ray 
memory enough to keep the promise you made 
me ?” she asked, anxiously and repeatedly. 

‘‘I will keep the promise, my dear child; but 
you do not know how hard it will be to resist the 
temptation of shooting him should he cross my 
path.” 

“ But you will resist it, papa ? Besides, you said 
that he was to be pitied.” 

“Be at rest, my child. Any request that you 
have made, or may make, shall be held sacred.” 

“ Thank you, papa. And now I am going to make 
what may seem to you a strange request. If Mag- 
dalen should ever become poor, you must give her 
a portion of dear Aunt Edith’s legacy. Something 
tells me that she will have sorrows equal to mine, 
rich and happy though she is. Do not forget, 
papa.” 

“ I will remember, love. Is there nothing else ?” 

“Yes, one more request: you must emancipate 
George and Bettie, and give them what you think 
proper. Ah, here he is ! George, would you like 
to be free ?” 

“ Well, Missy Katie, jest as long as you an’ ole 
marse lib, I’se a great deal better off dan poor free 
nigger ; but you’ll soon put on de white dress, an’ 
de gold crown, and de harp ob de angels,” he said, 
brushing away the tears that filled his eyes, “ an’ 


128 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

ole niarse might die sudden, and den I Might git a 
bad marster, dat wouldn’t let me wisit your grave.” 

‘‘True,” said his kind master, thoughtfully: “I 
never took that view of the case, George. Indeed, 
I never thought of death, until my little Katie was 
stricken down in the hey-day of her youth and 
beauty. I will see that you and Bettie are free, and 
you shall be well provided for ere you go forth to 
seek your fortune.” 

“ ’Sense me, old marse, but I a’n’t a-goin’ forth to 
seek my fortin’, an’ I hopes to be ’vided for in dis 
fam’ly as long as you libs. I only want de papers 
in case of ’cessity.” 

“ Very well, George : we will arrange every thing 
to your satisfaction.” 

“You berry kind, ole marse, and Missy Katie’s 
a angel on de yeth ! I’se your humble sarvant to 
command.” 

He made his customary low bow and left the 
room to answer a rap at the door, and in a few 
moments returned, ushering in Grace and Love. 

Grace almost forgot her own heart-ache as she 
gazed upon the dying girl who bore her sufferings 
so cheerfully. After conversing upon many subjects. 
Love left the room to prepare some dainty, and 
Grace asked, — 

“ Are you willing to leave this world, Kate, to 
which we are all so prone to cling ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 129 

Kate glanced up with a bright smile, and an- 
swered, — 

“I often ask myself, ‘Would you rather live or 
die, Kate ?’ Then I debate the question, and the 
invariable answer is, ‘ I would rather die.’ I know, 
dear Mrs. Heath, that I ought to wish to live for my 
father and my friends ; but I cannot. You do not 
know all I have suffered, and therefore cannot 
realize that I welcome the approach of death as a 
sweet release.” 

“Kate, child, I have had sufferings equal to 
yours !” 

“ Do not say so, Mrs. Heath !” Then her father’s 
words forced themselves on her memory, and she 
repeated them : — “ Husbands shall hate their wives, 
lovers their lady-loves, and all for love of ‘Magda- 
len the Enchantress.’ Mrs. Heath, Mrs. Heath, 
your husband loves Magdalen.” 

“ Do not speak of this to any one, Kate, and least 
of all to Love,” said Grace, hastily, as she heard her 
sister approaching. 

Day by day Kate became more beautiful. Larger, 
darker, and brighter grew the glorious eyes ; fairer 
the lily, redder the rose ; thinner and weaker the 
fragile form ; purer and whiter the soul. 

She frequently walked in the pure air, tenderly 

supported by her father : the walks gave place to 
I 


130 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

rides ; the rides to walks from one room to another. 
Then she was lifted from couch to invalid-chair, 
and from chair to couch again, when even a touch 
was agony to the weakened and aching form. She 
often clasped her small hands and compressed her 
pale lips to suppress a cry of anguish. Relatives 
and friends saw the patient suffering they were 
powerless to relieve, and sorrowed deeply. At 
length she saw hut dimly, heard imperfectly. The 
once musical voice was changed to hoarse mur- 
murings, the dazzling white and brilliant red that 
had held brief sway upon brow and cheek gave 
place to the dull gray hue that betokens the speedy 
coming of death: still, she bore all uncomplainingly. 

One evening, just as the bright stars were peep- 
ing through the shadowy twilight, she raised herself 
to a sitting posture, and cried, — 

“ Papa, tell Charles that I loved him in life and 
death, and say to Magdalen that I forgave her. 
Love, the shadows of death are closing around me, 
and I shall soon sleep, oh, so sweetly 1” 

When she started up, her father had placed his 
arms about her, and he held her to his heart until 
the last breath died out: then he laid her head 
gently on the pillow and closed her eyes. 

Exactly seven months after Captain Clinton’s 
marriage with Magdalen, Kate was laid in her 
grave. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS, 


131 


CHAPTER XVIII. , 

Where shall the dead and the beautiful sleep ? 

In the vale where the willow and cypress weep ; 

Where the wind of the west breathes its softest sigh ; 

Where the silvery stream is flowing nigh, 

And the pure clear drops of its rising sprays 
Glitter like gems in the bright moon’s rays ; 

Where the sun’s warm smile may never dispel 
Night’s tears o’er the form we loved so well ; 

In the vale where the sparkling waters flow, 

Where the fairest, earliest violets grow. 

Where the sky and the earth are softly fair : 

Bury her there, bury her there ! 

Where shall the dead and the beautiful sleep ? 

Where wild flowers bloom in the valley deep ; 

Where the sweet robes of spring may softly rest 
In purity over the sleeper’s breast ; 

Where is heard the voice of the sinless dove. 

Breathing notes of deep and undying love ; 

Where no column proud in the sun may glow, 

To mock the heart that is resting below ; 

Where pure hearts are sleeping, forever blest ; 

Where wandering Peris love to rest ; 

Where the sky and earth are softly fair ; 

Bury her there, bury her there ! 

J. B. Dillon. 

Mr. Dunnington passed slowly from the room 
wherein his only child lay dead. Bowed with grief, 
he entered his own chamber, to weep such bitter 


I 


132 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

tears as he had not wept since he laid his fair young 
wife in the tomb. We will leave him alone with 
his heart’s agony and return to the chamber of 
death. 

Love would not permit her friend to be enveloped 
in a shroud. She willed that her father should 
remember his child as sleeping, not dead. Kor was 
she to be touched by hireling hands. The fingers 
of sorrowing friends fashioned the snowy bride-like 
robe of fleecy India mull, and she was arrayed in 
her death-toilette as tenderly as if her wasted form 
could still shrink from a rude touch. Love’s fingers 
braided lovingly the brown tresses. Her hand 
placed upon the fair bosom, whose life-throbs were 
stilled, a cluster of white moss-rosebuds intermin- 
gled with lilies of the valley. 

“How beautiful!” was the whispered comment 
of friends as they looked upon the fair young face, 
which, instead of wearing the waxen hue usual in 
death, had a soft, peaceful appearance, as if she were 
indeed but “ sleeping, oh, so sweetly.” 

When the morning came, and the father stood 
beside his loved one, gazing upon her calm, angelic 
beauty, if prayer of his could have recalled her to 
life with her blighted hopes and weary spirit, he 
would not have uttered it. He rather rejoiced that 
she was released from the sorrow that had crushed 
both heart and body. Yet, as he knelt and im- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 133 

printed a kiss upon the mute, cold lips, he inly mur- 
mured, — 

“Would that I too might lay down the burden 
of life, and calmly rest beside you, my darling 
Katie !” 

The second day after the wing of the dark angel 
had left its shadow upon the heart and household 
of Mr. Dunnington, the loved one was borne away 
to be laid beside her mother. 

Mrs. Dunnington was not buried in a public 
cemetery, but in one of earth’s loveliest spots, which 
she, in a sportive mood, had declared should be her 
last resting-place. It was upon the estate of a 
maiden aunt who lived in Virginia, and with whom 
she had spent much of her young girlhood. During 
her bridal tour she visited this aunt, and, in showing 
her husband the beauties of the domain, she took 
him to this her favorite haunt, which she had chris- 
tened The Fay’s Bower. 

Throwing herself upon a rustic seat, which had 
been erected for her especial use in her girlish 
days, “Here,” said she, looking into her husband’s 
face, “I have woven some of the brightest day- 
dreams of my life ; and here, should I die early, 
you must lay me to rest, when I shall dream no 
more.” 

It was near the bank of the Potomac, and a sing- 
ing brooklet almost laved her feet as it swept mur- 
12 


134 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

mnringly along to ininglo its waters with that 
beautiful river. 

But a few years passed ere Death claimed the fair 
young wife as his own: and here she was laid to 
rest. Katie, in her annual visits to this princely 
estate, which, by deed of gift, had now become her 
own, loved to add to the beauty of the spot which 
Nature herself had made so fair, by planting choice 
flowers beside her mother’s grave. Now she is to 
rest beside that dear mother. Numerous friends are 
gathered round to witness the last sad rite. The 
sun is shining brilliantly, but two weeping willows 
bend their slender, graceful botighs above the graves, 
and cast a softened shadow over the burial-place of 
the young and beautiful, — mother and daughter. 

The cofl3.n stood beside the open grave. A brief 
prayer was said, a few touching remarks were made 
by an aged clergyman, who performed a similar 
service for her mother, and the coflin was lowered 
amid sobs and tears. 

‘‘ Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,” was sobbed 
rather than said by the white-haired minister, as he 
cast a handful of earth upon the coffin. Even the 
two men who stood near to All up the grave were 
so impressed with the scene that they were careful 
to cause the earth to slide from their spades as 
noiselessly as possible. A small slab of white mar- 
ble, inscribed with the name, together with the date 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


135 


of birth and death, of her who slept beneath, was 
placed at the head of Katie Dunnington’s grave. 

When the grave was heaped and shaped, a rose- 
bash, laden with bursting buds and snowy blossoms, 
was placed upon it by the hand of the faithful 
George. Then, and not till then, the sympathizing 
crowd turned and left the bereaved father kneeling 
alone beside the old and new made grave. Ko, not 
alone ; for George, after placing the rose-bush upon 
the grave of his idolized mistress, had stepped back 
and joined his sister Bettie, who stood weeping near 
by. They still stood there, but the sorrowing father 
was so absorbed in his grief that he observed them 
not. Giving utterance to the thoughts that op- 
pressed him, he exclaimed, — 

“ Oh, my darling, no more will your hand beau- 
tify your mother’s grave. My poor old heart is 
broken ! I too must soon rest beside you : who 
then will pluck the weeds that grow upon the 
graves of my heart’s treasures, and plant flowers in 
their stead?” 

“We will,” said Bettie and George, stepping for- 
ward to where their master knelt. “ Never, long as 
I lives,” continued George, “ shall a weed grow 
near my dear Miss Katie’s. And the flowers she 
loved so well shall always blossom on her grave.” 

“ God bless you both !” was the only reply Mr. 
Dunnington could make. 


136 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Years have flown since this sad burial of “ the 
young and beautiful.” The “graves of a household” 
are now shaded by those weeping willows, and the 
singing brooklet still murmurs by, with a mournful 
cadence in its tone, as if it were tolling a requiem for 
the early dead. 

Mr. Dunnington lived many years after the death 
of his daughter. But he sleeps at last. 

George and Bettie, though free, still live upon the 
estate : their cabin is in the vicinity of this lovely 
spot, and the promise made over the grave of their 
idolized Miss Katie has been faithfully kept. 
Flowers of rare beauty blossom above the quiet 
dead, and their rich odors float like incense upon 
the winds of heaven, speaking the undying devo- 
tion of these two faithful hearts. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


137 


, CHAPTEE XIX. 

“ Sorrow treads heavily, and leaves behind 
A deep impression, e’en when she departs ; 

While Joy trips by with steps light as the wind. 

And scarcely leaves a trace upon our hearts 
Of her faint footfalls : only this is sure, — 

In this world naught save misery can endure.” 

Soon after Kate’s death, Captain Clinton was 
ordered to sea, and he brought Magdalen to Wash- 
ington, where she was to remain during his ab- 
sence. 

As may be supposed, Captain Clinton had already 
repented of his hasty marriage ; for Magdalen was 
not the same fascinating creature as a wife that she 
had been when a maiden. She was easily angered: 
he had grown weary of the domestic storms that 
raged around him, and he was glad that he would 
soon exchange them for the to him less fearful 
storms of the sea. 

Grace called to see them when they returned to 
the city; but Love positively refused. She did not 
meet them until some weeks after their return, 

when she met them at Dr. Linton’s. 

12 * 


138 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

As she entered, leaning upon Lionel’s arm, Cap- 
tain Clinton, who was standing near the door, has- 
tened forward to greet her. She acknowledged his 
polite attentions with a cold hauteur that surprised 
him. 

“ The same wayward little lady that I parted with 
six months since,” he said, playfully. 

“ Pardon me, sir, but I must beg leave to say that 
1 am never wayward with my friends.” 

“ And so you class me with your enemies ? Since 
when ?” 

“Since I discovered that you were the bitterest 
enemy of my dearest friend.” 

“You are certainly mistaken, Miss Love; Percy 
and I are still fast friends.” 

She blushed slightly, but answered coldly, as be- 
fore, — “I do not refer to Mr. Percy,” and passed 
on. Lionel led Love to a seat, excused himself, and 
returned to Captain Clinton. 

“What’s the matter with that fiery little crea- 
ture ?” inquired the captain. 

“ Haven’t the least idea,” answered Lionel, with a 
laugh; “ but for the last week or so she wouldn’t 
permit me to mention your name, — says that you 
are a despicable wretch, and wonders how I, a man 
of truth and honor, can be associated with you in 
the same ship. I asked her to reveal to me but a 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 139 

single mean or unworthy act of which you were 
guilty, and I would cut you.” 

“ It strikes me, Percy, that, if she is thus flighty 
with a mere acquaintance, she must be a complete 
little 1 was about to say devil, but I’ll substi- 

tute will-o’-the-wisp, with a lover. Eh, my boy ?” 

“ ’Gad, but you’re about right, my dear friend. I 
am just about as certain of her love to-night as I 
was the moment I met her. Sometimes she is the 
sweetest, dearest, little creature, but can change in 
an instant, and often flies into a passion at a single 
word. And yet I love her with all my heart and 
soul. I see the lights and shades of her character ; 
for she is too honest to hide her faults. For the life 
of me, captain, I can’t tell whether she is flirting 
or not. The game is all in her own hands, for I 
showed mine long ago.” 

‘‘The more fool you,” said the captain, laughing: 
“ if you want to win a woman’s heart, treat her with 
indifference. Take my advice: make love to the 
lady she most dislikes, and I dare wager, ten to one, 
that, ere you leave this fair city, lady Love will be 
your promised bride.” 

“ I will try the experiment, captain.” 

“You are wise. But come: lvalue Miss Kich- 
mond’s friendship far too highly to relinquish it 
without a struggle. I must endeavor to make 
peace.” 


140 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


They crossed to where Love was sitting, and Cap- 
tain Clinton seated himself beside her, 

“Miss Love, j^ou said but now that I was the 
bitterest enemy of your dearest friend. Will you 
not tell me who that friend is, and, if I have injured 
any one, place it in my power to repair that in- 

jury?” 

“ Alas ! that were impossible, even if poor Katie 
had lived. You could never have restored health 
and happiness.” 

“ Pardon me ; but I believe I cannot rightly un- 
derstand your words.” 

“ You are aware that Kate Dunnington died two 
weeks since, but you may not know that ” 

“You are not serious, Miss Kichmond: it cannot 
be that Kate is dead. I missed her bright face to- 
night, but did not dream that I should miss it for- 
ever. I cannot realize the truth. How very sudden ! 
What was her disease. Miss Kichmond?” 

Love saw the surprise and sorrow depicted on 
his face, and said, more gently than she had yet 
spoken, — 

“ The world called it consumption ; but I know 
that she died of a broken heart. Can it be possible. 
Captain Clinton, that you never heard that she had 
a severe hemorrhage of the lungs on the morning 
of your marriage, and that she declined rapidly 
from that time ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 141 

“I had no correspondents in Washington, and 
could not know; but it is a little singular that I 
have heard nothing of it since my return. So you 
think that my marriage affected her?” 

“ I know that it caused her death. The last words 
she uttered were these : — ‘ Papa, tell Charles that 
I loved him in life and death ; and say to Magda- 
len that I forgave her. Love, the shadows of death 
are closing around me ; and I shall soon sleep, oh, 
80 sweetly !’ ” 

Lionel had listened in profound astonishment to 
the above conversation. 

“Love, you are surely jesting,” he observed. 

“ I would not dare jest about my poor lost Katie, 
Lionel. I have spoken only the truth.” 

“ Will you forgive me, in her name. Miss Kich- 
mond, when I assure you that I thought her per- 
fectly indifferent to me?” 

“I forgive and pity you, sir: she never blamed 
you” 

“I can never forgive myself,” murmured Captain 
Clinton as he turned away; “and she, poor inno- 
cent child, carried a breaking heart under her gay 
exterior. I remember, now, that I often observed 
that her eyes were bent upon me with an expression 
of hopeless love in their clear depths; but I thought 
her a coquette, and knew that such little arts were 
often brought to bear upon inconstant lovers. Poor 


142 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Kate! I pity her and despise myself. As I recall 
the past, I find that I was all too willing to believe 
her totally devoid of heart and all womanly feeling, 
while I invested Magdalen with every beautiful and 
noble quality. Kow I am undeceived, and can see 
them as they really were : — Magdalen, in her thirst 
for admiration and power, sacrificing pride, delicacy, 
and truth to win a man she did not love, because 
she had been told that he would not fall an easy 
victim to her resplendent loveliness ; and Kate 
blending so beautifully in her character womanly 
love, pride, and delicacy. Kate died almost a saint; 
and Magdalen — I blush to admit it even to myself 
— lives a hypocrite in love and in religion.” 

Magdalen saw the gloom that overshadowed his 
face, and, approaching him, laid her hand gently 
on his arm, and, raising her eyes to his, murmured, 
in her musical tones, — 

“What troubles you, my husband?” 

The glance of the magnetic eyes had now no 
power to chase away sad memories ; and he an- 
swered : — 

“The past, Magdalen.” 

“I fiattered myself that you were saddened by 
the thought of our approaching separation,” she 
said, somewhat angrily. She was beginning to dis- 
cover that her husband did not regard her with the 
all-absorbing love that had been shown her for a 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


143 


brief while after her marriage, and which she, in 
her proud selfishness, required. “ I must be more 
gentle,” she thought, ‘‘or the peering world will 
notice his coldness toward me.” The soft eyes re- 
garded him reproachfully as she repeated, gently, — 
“ I flattered myself that you were saddened by the 
thought of our approaching separation.” 

He started slightly, for he had forgotten her 
presence. 

“We will be happier parted, Magdalen. There 
has been but little love between us recently ; never 
any on your side.” 

“ You think so, Charles?” 

“I know it, Magdalen.” 

“As you please. When do you join your ves- 
sel ?” 

“A week from to-morrow.” 

“So soon?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And you will be absent three years?” 

“ I will be with you at the close of three years, if 
I do not find a grave beneath the ocean-waves.” 

“And have you any such presentiment?” 

“I must confess that I have.” 

“You are gloomy, Charles: we shall meet 
again.” 

“ I fear not, Magdalen.” 

“I ho;pe not,” she muttered, between her teeth, as 


144 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

her ej^es rested on I^’eville, who was approaching 
with Grace. “I have gained what I wished, — his 
fortune.” 

Neville invariably treated Grace with cold polite 
ness in society, but he wounded her sensitive nature 
deeply in many ways when alone with her. She 
was slowly sinking under her sorrow, and was no 
longer the gay, cheerful creature she had been 
before her marriage. The color had faded out 
from her cheeks, and the once light step was slow 
and languid. There were many surmises as to the 
cause of the evident trouble between them ; but she 
had never confided it even to her parents. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


145 


CHAPTER XX. 

Thou art fickle as the sea, thou art wandering as the wind, 

And the restless, ever-mounting flame is not more hard to bind. 

If the tears I shed were tongues, yet all too few would be 
To tell of all the treachery that thou hast shown to me. 

But it wearies me, mine enemy, that I must weep and bear 
What fills thy heart with triumph and fills my own with care. 

’Twas the doubt that thou wert false that wrung my heart with pain; 
But, now I know thy perfidy, I shall be well again. 

I would proclaim thee as thou art, but every maiden knows 
That she who chides her lover forgives him ere he goes. 

Beyant. 

On the morning preceding Lionel’s departure, he 
joined several ladies and gentlemen in a morning 
ride. He had tried every means he could think of 
to obtain a direct answer from Love as to whether 
she loved him, and a promise to marry him on his 
return, without success. As a last resort, he deter- 
mined to have recourse to Captain Clinton’s advice, 
and endeavor to arouse her jealousy. When the 
party started, he rode off with Miss Lee, a young 
lady who reigned the belle par excellence of Alexan- 
dria. Love was not left forlorn by his desertion, 

however ; for both Willie Calvert and Jack O’Mel 

K 13 


146 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

escorted her. Although both were admirers of 
Love, they were warm friends, and made common 
cause against Lionel. Love, though perfectly con- 
vinced that Lionel loved her, and her alone, was not 
at all pleased that he should be, even in appearance, 
devoted to another. She did not attempt to conceal 
her displeasure and discontent, and rode onward in 
angry silence. When Jack or Willie hazarded an 
inquiry, she gave in return short and pettish an- 
swers. The fair Alexandrian wore a small cluster 
of rosebuds on her bosom, and, after coquettishly 
resisting the entreaties of Lionel for some time, she 
gave him one. He pressed it gallantly to his lips 
and fastened it in his button-hole. 

‘‘This is going a little too far,” thought Love. 
“I must put a stop to it.” 

Her horse was a well-trained, well-tried favorite, 
and she knew she could rely upon him. She slipped 
partially from her saddle, and gave the horse a 
slight blow. As he sprang forward, she gave a wild 
cry of seeming terror. Lionel, hearing the cry and 
seeing the clinging, helpless form of his beloved, as 
she passed him like a flash, forgot Miss Lee and 
started instantly in pursuit. Her horse was far 
superior to his, and she led him on his harum-scarum 
chase for a quarter of a mile, then suddenly re- 
sumed her legitimate position, checked her steed, 
and laughed in his face. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


147 


‘‘For Heaven’s sake, tell me what prompted you 
to this mad escapade?” 

“Oh,” she answered, carelessly, “you seemed so 
absorbed with Miss Lee, I wished to see if I could 
be killed and you not know it.” 

“ I cannot tell you the color of Miss Lee’s eyes. I 
would not recognise her face should I meet her to- 
morrow.” 

“You have been studying it very intently, never- 
theless.” 

“You are jealous.” 

“ You are impertinent, sir.” 

Her red lip curled scornfully, and she darted from 
him and rejoined Jack and Willie, who were ap- 
proaching, unmindful of his agitated 

“ Stay ! I implore you. Love, — Miss Kichmond, — 
but one moment I” 

Lionel, as in duty bound, resumed his place be- 
side Miss Lee, who found all her arts powerless to 
rouse him from the saddened silence into which he 
had fallen. Poor fellow ! he was in exceeding great 
trouble, for he was fearful that Love was really 
angry because of his unlucky reference to her 
jealousy. 

“I must make my peace,” he thought; and, fall- 
ing back, he whispered, hastily, “For Heaven’s 
sake, Jack O’Mel, change places with me.” 

“ Certainly, if the change is agreeable to Miss 


148 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Kichmond/* answered Jack, with provoking de- 
liberation. ‘‘Miss Love, is it your pleasure I resign 
my place to Mr. Percy 

“ Certainly not,” she answered, haughtily. 

Lionel’s face flushed hotly, as with a low bow he 
spurred forward and joined Miss Lee. 

“ Make a fool of yourself, and give a woman the 
knowledge that she possesses power over you, and 
she will torment you to death,” he muttered. 

In less than a half-hour after the return of the 
party. Love Pichmond sat beside a table, cool and 
composed, while Lionel Percy walked rapidly 
through the parlor, as was his wont when agitated. 
Love followed him with her eyes ; but he did not 
turn his toward her. He finally became somewhat 
less excited, and paused before her. 

“Why is it, you most incomprehensible of woman- 
kind, that you will not give me this promise ? Am 
I too old ?’* 

She could not help laughing as she looked upon 
the almost boyish figure of her lover. 

“Ho.” 

“ Am I ugly ?” 

“Ho.” 

“ Is it my want of wealth ?” 

“Ho.” 

“My low rank?” 

“Ho.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


149 


‘‘What can be the objection? You told me, but 
a moment since, that you loved me.” 

“ Better than any one I have ever seen.” 

“ Well, do I not love you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“But you do know.” 

“Yes! you care a great deal for me when you 
flirt with another in my very presence, and wear her 
flowers.” 

She was playing nervously with her rings, but a 
half-smile was on her lips. 

He tore the rose-bud that Miss Lee had given 
him, from his button-hole, and threw it to her with 
a smothered curse on the jealous caprices of women 
in general and of this one in particular. 

She pulled the rose to pieces, and then said, 
“ Oh, yes ; you give me her flowers as of no value 
to you; and when you are with her you give her 
mine, I doubt not.” 

“ I swear ” 

“You need not,” she interrupted: “it will not 
convince me. She is an acknowledged belle, and 
you are flattered by her preference ; and I tell you 
I am not to be loved or neglected at your fickle 
will 1” 

“And Ti^Wyou that I am not to be encouraged 
and repulsed at your fickle will ! I will leave you 

this instant, and Washington to-night !” 

13 * 


150 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

He looked very determined; but she knew her 
power, and, raising her dark, melancholy eyes to 
his, said, archly, — 

“Ho, you won’t.’' 

The glance and the tone were instantaneous in 
effect ; and, instead of going, he tossed his cap on 
the floor and seated himself beside her. 

“Love,” he said, seriously, “ I assure you, on my 
honor as a soldier and a gentleman, that you are the 
only lady I have ever loved. You have to-day given 
me a similar assurance : why not, then, promise me 
your hand, to be yielded when I return ?” 

“I see no just cause or impediment why I should 
not. But of what value are promises? They are 
easily broken,” she answered, smiling. 

“ But you promise ?” 

“I promise,” she said, giving him the little white 
hand he coveted. He kissed it gently, almost reve- 
rently, and then drew it through his arm and led 
her to the piano. 

“ I wish you to sing me one more song, that I may 
hold in remembrance when 1 am gone. Hay, no 
tears : I will not have them.” 

“ What .shall it be ?” 

“Hot one of your usual wild songs of broken 
hearts, nor yet your mocking ones of love’s incon- 
stancy, but something joyous and light. What say 
you to the caption of ‘ Woman’s Wiles ’?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


151 


“ That I am capable of treating of the subject,’* 
she answered, laughing. 

“You are perfect in the practice, I am well aware. 
Now for the theory.” 

“ Will you ever cease talking and listen ?” 

“ I am listening.” 

“Well, what do you hear?” she asked, saucily. 

“The music of your voice, which is sweeter 
melody than any song I have ever heard.” 

“ Peace, flatterer ! Listen: — 

“ ‘ Oh, Allie’s eyes are brighter, 

, ’ And Allie’s cheeks are fair ; 

' My figure, too, is slighter, 

And lacks her queenly air/ 

Thus chid a little maiden, 

With all a woman’s wile : 

Her lover bent and kiss’d her hand 
To hide a roguish smile. 

“ ‘Allie’s hair, so fair and golden. 

Softly shades her brow of snow; 

While mine, alas for me, love, ' , 

In darksome ringlets flow. 

•» Yet once again I warn you 

' ’Gainst my proud rival’s charms ; 

(His eyes with love are flashing, 

Shall I throw down my arms ? 

“ ‘I know he loves me only. 

But it soundeth sweet to^me . 

To hear him whisper, softly, 

‘ I love, mine own, but thee.’ 

I’ll e’en affect to doubt him ; 

He’ll cold indifference feign ; 

'' A smile of love, a sigh, a tear, ' ' 

And he’s at my feet again !) 


152 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


< ‘ ‘ Ah, yes, you often whisper 
Sweet words of love to me ; 

But if she smiles upon you 
I doubt not you will flee.’ 

She paused ; he gazed upon her 
With the love-light in his eyes, 

Then softly kiss’d the pouting lips 
Of his blushing little prize. 

“ ‘ Though Alice may be fairer 

Than my winsome, witching bride ; 

I would not be the sharer 

Of her cold heart’s chilly pride. 

To me wee Edith’s fairer 
Than stately Alice Clyde : 

The nettle groweth higher 

Than the violet by its side /’ ” 

“What an expose !” cried Lionel; “I never 
dreamed that the ladies practised such arts as 
these.” 

“ And, if they did not, where would be the ro- 
mance of love, — the hopes and fears, the certainties 
and uncertainties, that sway the hearts of lovers ? 
Let the flash and sparkle of unacknowledged love 
subside into the humdrum engagement, and love 
soon becomes tasteless and insipid, and you would 
cast it away as readily as you did that glass of cham- 
pagne yesternight, when you pronounced it ‘ dull, 
dead,’ because the sparkling foam had disappeared 
from the brimming beaker,” said Love, gayly. “ Be- 
sides,” she went on, more seriously, “those same 
‘ wiles’ are our protection. My poor Katie confessed 
to Captain Clinton how dearly she loved him, and 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 153 

he straightway grew weary of her love and bestowed 
his on Magdalen ; while I, by keeping you in sus- 
pense, held you captive until the Enchantress was 
caged and rendered powerless by a few magic words 
pronounced at the foot of the altar, and at last I 
can say ‘I love you,’ without fear.” 

“ I bow in admiration of your superiority in the 
science of keeping a poor fellow on the rack. Pray, 
who gave you lessons ?” 

“ It is a gift which but few possess in an eminent 
degree ; and it can never be acquired.” 

They continued talking of many things of interest 
to them, until Captain Clinton sent a message to 
Lionel, stating that he must be prepared to start 
that evening. Lionel bade Love good-by, and as- 
sured her that if it were possible he would see her 
again before he left; but he was compelled to go 
without that pleasure. 


154 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

I dream’d of tortures in death’s hour, 

Of fever’d brain and limb, 

And of unearthly forms that lower 
When the eye waxes dim. 

My dreams in death have other moulds. 

Forms beautiful and bright 
Are with me. Jones. 

Lionel was saddened by the present parting, and 
was, at the same time, somewhat fearful that Love 
might change ere the three long years of probation 
were ended. But he cast aside his imaginary trou- 
bles when, two weeks after leaving the American 
shores, Captain Clinton became suddenly and alarm- 
ingly ill. He devoted himself to his friend, nursing 
him with the gentleness and care of a woman. It 
was soon apparent to all that he would not recover; 
and Lionel once said to him, — 

“Captain Clinton, how can you look death so 
bravely in the face when you reflect upon the terri- 
ble tidings that will be transmitted to your young 
wife ?” 

The answer startled him : — 

“ The news of my death will be most welcome to 
her.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 155 

Lionel looked the astonishment he felt; and Cap- 
tain Clinton proceeded : — 

‘‘ Lionel, I have nothing to cling to on earth, and 
much to hope for in heaven. My second marriage 
was the great mistake of my life : it has been my 
unhappiness. Had I never met Magdalen, I would 
still be happy, I doubt not, in the memory of my 
lost Emily or the presence of one who was almost 
as dear, — poor martyred Kate. I love Magdalen 
sufficiently to be pained by her faults and follies, 
but not well enough to wish to live for the purpose 
of leading her |o better things.” 

“But, my dear sir,” said Lionel, “you may judge 
her too harshly : perhaps it was her great love for 
you that prompted her to play upon you and sup- 
plant her rival.” 

“ You are mistaken : she does not love me, nor 
never did. She married me for the same object 
that she led me to believe actuated Kate, — my 
wealth.” 

“ Impossible ! She is in her own right a wealthy 
heiress.” 

“ She waSy — not is. 'While in Europe, she lost her 
fortune by gaming; and when a woman sinks to 
that level it were better to allow her to take her 
own course.” 

He spoke with so much agitation and pain that 
Lionel begged him to cease. He insisted, however, 


156 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

upon detailing every thing in regard to the plot that 
Magdalen and Henry Calvert had engaged in for 
the purpose of leading him to break with Kate and 
into a marriage with Magdalen. 

“How did you learn this?” inquired Lionel: 
“ surely neither Mrs. Clinton nor Calvert were mad 
enough to discover it ?” 

“Do you remember the evening Miss Richmond 
informed me of Kate’s death ?” 

“ Distinctly.” 

“On the following evening I left home at seven 
o’clock to visit a friend, telling Magdalen that I 
would probably not return until late. Hot finding 
the friend I sought, I returned home and threw my- 
self in an arm-chair in the little reception-room next 
the parlor. In a few minutes after my entrance, 
Calvert called and was shown into the parlor. 
When Magdalen entered, he demanded five thou- 
sand dollars. She told him that she could not give 
him so large a sum, as she dared not ask it of me 
without giving some explanation concerning the 
use to which it would be put. He said to her that 
a bargain was a bargain, and that if she did not 
immediately place in his hands the amount required 
he would present his claim to me. She, who is 
pride personified to all others, knelt to him and 
with tears and sobs besought him to be merciful to 
her. From their further conversation I learned the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 157 

bitter fact that she had lost her fortune at the 
gaming-table, instead of dispensing it in charity, as 
she had told me. You may possibly imagine the 
mortification and pain this revelation caused me, 
but can form no idea of my horror when I heard 
her coolly urge, when all else had failed to satisfy 
him, that she would give him thrice the sum he 
claimed when I was dead. 

‘‘ ‘ You know,’ she concluded, ‘ that you once said 
that the perils of the sea were many: why not pity 
me for a time and be benefited in the end?’ This 
did not avail, for he still insisted upon having the 
money; and she offered him her jewels, which were 
of great value. He seemed to experience a peculiar 
pleasure in tormenting her, and refused them. She 
was in despair, and suffered apparently the extreme 
of terror and shame. I had sat as it were stupefied, 
but managed after a time to compose myself suffi- 
ciently to consider what course I should pursue 
under the circumstances. My first impulse, as a 
matter of course, was to thrust him from my house ; 
but the second sober thought came to my aid, and 
I resolved to spare Magdalen a public exposure, and 
at the same time conceal from both Calvert and 
herself the knowledge of which I had become acci- 
dentally possessed. I left the house by a private 
door and proceeded to the front entrance. When I 

entered the parlor, Magdalen sat with perfect self- 
14 


158 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

possession, quietly conversing with Calvert, who 
arose when he saw me and offered his hand. I 
shook it with apparent cordiality, and we conversed 
for some minutes. After a time, I turned to Mag- 
dalen and said to her that I had really forgotten that 
‘pin-money’ was indispensable to a lady, and that I 
had five thousand dollars which I would place at 
her disposal if she would accept it. She thanked 
me, and nothing more was said of the matter until 
Calvert took his leave. When the door closed 
upon him, she bent over me, with a hasty though 
half-hesitating movement, and kissed me. I thought 
she would confess all, and if she had done so I could 
have freely forgiven her ; but she only spoke to ask 
me to permit her to give the ‘ pin-money’ in charity. 
I turned from her sick at heart, and since that time 
I have been careless of life.” 

Captain Clinton, after lingering for some weeks, 
died, as a brave man should, calmly and fearlessly. 

“Many of my sins,” he said, “have been sins of 
ignorance ; and I have full and entire faith that I 
shall be mercifully judged.” 

As his life drew to its close, his mind wandered, 
and he seemed to have forgotten both Kate and 
Magdalen, remembering only Emily ; and he died 
with her name on his lips, her image in his heart. 

When her husband’s death was communicated to 
her, Magdalen feigned violent grief, and alarmed 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 159 

and shocked her friends by her passionate outcries 
and blasphemous murmurs against the will of God. 

A few months after her husband’s death, a babe 
was horn to her ; and all the intense love of which 
her wayward, passionate nature was capable centred 
on this son. 

“ He will be the joy and pride of my life,” she said, 
pressing him to her bosom, ‘‘and he must have 
wealth to support the honors to which he will at- 
tain. I must marry again for his sake ; for Clinton’s 
fortune was far less than I thought it.” 


160 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTEESS. 


CHAPTER XXn. 

Death came : she look’d upon his face 

And smiled. Fast ebb’d the fleeting breath, 

But, by her simple faith in grace. 

She triumphed o’er the conqueror Death ! 

Horace P. Biddle. 

A GEOUP of servants were gathered in the kitchen 
of Heville Heath’s residence, discussing, as servants 
will, the affairs of the household. Among the 
number we recognise Aunt Bell, who declares that 
she “is jist as young as ever.” There, too, is Mr. 
Dunnington’s servant George. 

“ Aunt Bell, what you think de mautter wid Miss 
Grace?” inquired George. 

“ I don’t know,” answered the old woman, sharply. 

“ 1^0. But what you ’spects ?” 

“I don’t ’spect nuthin’: hush up your mouth.” 

“You don’t? Well, I ’spects sumthin’; an’ I’ll 
tell you what it is : I has my ’spicions dat Marse 
Heville treat his lady had.” 

“ Hush up your mouth, I say, you low-life nigger,” 
cried the old woman, wrathfully. 

“ ’Ta’n’t perlite to ’suit visitors in your own house, 
Mrs. Bell,” said George ; “ and if you forgits yourself 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 


161 


an’ calls a cullod gen’leman a nigger, I mus’n’t for- 
git myself, but treat you with ’tempt : dat is, I mus’n’t 
take no notice ob you, but jist ’tinue my ’marks. 
I can tell you de cause ob the fuss in de fam’ly.” 

Aunt Bell became interested. 

“ What is the cause ?” 

“ Dare’s no what about it : it’s a who. And who’s 

♦ 

at de bottom ob all debiltry in de District ob Co- 
lumby but ‘ Magdalen de ’Chan tress’ ?” 

“ You’re a fool, nigger,” said Aunt Bell, contempt- 
uously; “you suppose that Marse E’eville’s goin’ to 
’gleet Miss Grace ’cause of that white-faced creeter ? 
No, no ! the devil’s in Marse Neville.” 

“’Sense me, but I can’t ’gree wid you, Mrs. 
Bell. No debil in Marse Neville ; but he’s in Miss 
Magdalen. You know what de kiss-werse say ?” 

“No: don’t know nuthin’ ’bout sich nigger non- 
sense.” 

“ Well, it says dat ‘ Woman rules man, but de 
debil rules her.’ ” 

“ What of that, gump ?” 

“ Jist dis, dat de debil rules Miss Magdalen, and 
Miss Magdalen rules Marse Neville.” 

“ Say that agin, and I’ll hit you over the head 
with the broomstick.” 

“No use ob gittin’ mad, Aunt Bell,” said George, 
soothingly; “but will you please, ma’am,’ quire ef I 
kin see Miss Grace?” 

L 


14* 


W2 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

The old woman went np-stairs, but in a minute 
came clattering down again, wringing her hands in 
deep distress. 

“Run for Dr. Linton, George. I b’lieve Miss 
Grace is dead !” 

George awaited no second bidding, but darted 
away on his errand, while Aunt Bell ^rried up the 
stairs, closely followed by the terror-stricken ser- 
vants, who crowded around the bed whereon their 
well-beloved young mistress was lying col(J and 
white. That she had arisen and dressed was evi- 
dent ; for a white robe was girded around her slender 
waist, and the glossy curls of her bright brown hair 
had been carefully arranged. 

George stopped at Mr. Richmond’s on his way to 
Dr. Linton’s, and told Mrs. Richmond that Aunt 
Bell said that Miss Grace was dead, but that he 
guessed she had only fainted. Mrs. Richmond and 
Love hurried away, much alarmed, the former stay- 
ing but an instant to direct a servant to seek Mr. 
Richmond and Clarence and to tell them that Mrs. 
Heath was very ill. 

When Mrs. Richmond and Love entered Grace’s 
room, they found her lying, robed as for burial, on 
the bed. Dr. Linton leaned over her, while the ser- 
vants stood near the door, weeping silently. The 
golden-haired, white-robed figure, lying so pale and 
still, recalled to Love all the wild visions of her 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


163 


childhood, and, stepping forward, she laid her hand 
on her sister’s bosom, saying, in tones low, clear, and 
solemn, — 

“You need not pain your kind heart by telling 
us. Dr. Linton. She is dead.” 

“Yes; of disease of the heart.” 

There was a wild cry, and old Aunt Bell threw 
herself on her knees beside her dead darling. 

“ Oh, Miss Grace, honey,” she sobbed, “why did 
you die ? why did you die ? And, worse than all, to 
die all alone! Oh, Miss Grace, Miss Grace !” 

“I^'ot alone !” rang the clear, musical voice again, 
— “ not alone ; God was with her, and the pure angels. 
Where is your religion. Aunt Bell? Where your 
resignation to God’s holy will?” 

The old woman swayed her form slowly to and 
fro, moaning, — 

“ My little blue-eyed baby, who used to be afraid 
to go to sleep in a dark room by herself, to die all 
alone ! Oh, Miss Grace, Miss Grace!” 

The poor old creature could not be prevailed 
upon to leave her child, as she called Grace, until 
she was buried; and even then she spent a large 
portion of her time at her mi-stress’s grave, begging 
her to “ come back to her poor old mammy.” 


164 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

If spirits pure as those who kneel 
Around the throne of light above 
The power of beauty’s spell could feel 
And lose a heaven for woman’s love, 

What marvel that a heart like mine 
Enraptured by thy charms should be, 

Forget to bend at glory’s shrine. 

And lose itself— aye, heaven — for thee ? 

Memorial. 

Grace had long been in poor health, but her 
friends had felt but little uneasiness concerning her ; 
and, when it was announced that she was dead, they 
were shocked beyond measure. 

This sudden sorrow fell heavily upon the mem- 
bers of her own family ; but none felt it so deeply 
as Clarence, who tenderly loved his good and beau- 
tiful sister. He had long been aware of the 
estrangement existing between his sister and her 
husband, and had watched them closely to dis- 
cover the cause. He had once besought Grace to 
reveal it ; but she had silenced, not satisfied him, by 
assuring him that Heville was not to blame. 

On the evening of the day of Grace’s funeral, 
Magdalen sat in her splendid drawing-room, with 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 165 

her boy on her lap. He was a beautiful child, and 
it was little wonder that his mother idolized him. 
He had the dark hair and colorless complexion of 
his beautiful mother, and the grand Napoleonic 
forehead, small beautifully-curved mouth, and large 
flashing blue eyes of his father. Captain Clinton 
had been dead more than a year, but his widow still 
wore black: she had never worn mourning. Her 
usual toilette was a rich black velvet or satin robe, 
with delicate lace collar and under-sleeves. She 
had the good taste, however, to discard jewels, with 
the exception of a magnificent diamond brooch, and 
her wedding-ring. The babe, who rested quietly on 
her bosom, was dressed in a long white robe richly 
embroidered, the short sleeves looped up with 
heavy jewelled chain-bracelets. Magdalen seemed 
to be thinking of something which deeply moved 
her, for she suddenly lifted her child upright, and 
said, with a low laugh of mingled triumph and 
pleasure, — 

“Ah, Charlie, boy, your mamma is very happy, 
both for your sake and her own. The woman who 
has been her hated rival for many years is dead. 
But she stood in your way, too, my darling : now I 
shall have his heart, and you shall have his fortune, 
my bright one!” 

Again the low laughter floated through the room. 
Ere it died away, an eager step sounded in the hall. 


166 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

and in a naoment after the door was thrown open 
and the subject of her reverie stood in her presence, 
with an exultant light in the eyes that should have 
been dim with weeping for the young wife who had 
just been buried from their sight. 

“ Why, Neville, is it you ?” said Magdalen. “ I have 
been thinking of you.’* 

“ Grace is dead, Clinton is dead, Magdalen. I am 
free to ask your hand; you are free to give it. Many 
times during your widowhood I have dared to hope 
that you deceived both yourself and me by saying 
that you had cast me from your heart. Am I not 
right? Tell me, 0 Magdalen, that you can love 
me as in the olden time, when your glorious eyes 
sank beneath the glance of mine. Tell me, O 
Magdalen !” 

“ Never with the same love, Neville. That love 
has grown and strengthened in the years that have 
passed since ‘ the olden time,’ until it is as another 
thing.” 

“ Is it so, Magdalen ? is it indeed so ? How doubly 
proud and happy I shall be when you are both 
mine, — my beautiful wife, my beautiful child ! In 
two weeks, Magdalen, I shall claim you.” 

“ In two weeks ? What will her family, what 
will the world, say?” 

“Whatever my sins may be, Magdalen, hypo- 
crisy is not of the number. I cannot pretend to 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


167 


be sorry when I am glad. Thou art my world 
henceforth; I am thine. What need we care for 
aught else ? In two weeks, I repeat, I shall claim 
you.” 

“ So be it. I am content.” 

He kissed her, then bent over the babe with a like 
intent; but the child, with a cry, hid his face on his 
mother’s bosom. 

Neville’s face clouded with displeasure at this 
demonstration on the part of the infant, and Mag- 
dalen hastened to apologize : — 

“ Charlie, in common with all babies, has an 
antipathy to kisses. Pray, forgive the naughty 
boy.” 

‘‘Oh, certainly; but I wish he had not turned 
from my proffered caress.” 

He spoke pleasantly, but he had taken a dislike 
to the child. He was irritated that the pure-souled 
child should shrink from the contaminating touch 
of his polluted lips. 

“ Magdalen, there is one thing I wish to ask of 
you : will you not, for my sake, renounce Catholi- 
cism ?” 

She laughed. 

“Bah, Neville! I was never a Catholic, save in 
name.” 

“ But you will renounce the name ?” 

“ Certainly, and join any church you wish.” 


168 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“Do as you wish on that score, but renounce 
Catholicism.” 

“ In ever fear. It is too difficult to be a Catholic, 
either of the so-called Eomish or reformed faith : 
therefore I have no desire to trouble myself about 
the one or the other.” 

The good people of Washington were thrown 
into a perfect whirl of gossiping excitement when 
the marriage contracted by E'eville and Magdalen 
was published to the world. 

There were low whispers that Grace had been 
poisoned. These whispers grew louder, and finally 
reached Clarence. 

It came to light, too, that the newly-married had 
been lovers for years, and the causes of Grace’s 
disquiet and Kate Dunnington’s sudden illness and 
speedy death, which had heretofore been inexpli- 
cable mysteries to the curious, were made manifest. 

Clarence went earnestly to work to discover if 
there was any foundation in the vague report that 
Grace had been poisoned. He soon discovered that 
there was much suspicion, but no proof. Neither 
could he find the source from whence the report had 
originated. Clarence felt convinced that his sister 
had not died of the heart-disease, and resolved to 
take the law into his own hands. He sent Neville a 
challenge; but the latter, knowing his brother-in- 
law’s cause to be just, refused to meet him, on the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 169 

plea that he could not fight the brother of his late 
wife. 

During the excitement attendant upon the sudden 
death of Grace, the hasty marriage of JJ^'eville and 
Magdalen, and the contemplated duel between 
Neville and Clarence, Magdalen received a visit 
from one whom she had come to regard as her 
evil genius. I refer to Henry Calvert. 

“So, Magdalen,” he said, in his old, familiar way, 
“there is a faint likelihood that your white and 
slender neck may wear another carcanet than the 
diamond necklace which encircles its fair propor- 
tions now.” 

“What now ?” 

“ Haven’t you heard the rumors that have been 
fioating through the city since your marriage ? By- 
the-way, that precipitant act was scarcely prudent, — 
certainly not decent.” 

“But these rumors : what are they?” 

“ That you poisoned Grace Heath.” 

“ My God !” 

“ What does that mean ? — fear ?” 

“ Fear ! What have I to fear ?” 

“Arrest, trial, conviction, sentence, death!” 

She shuddered. 

“ I am innocent of her death ! They dare not 
charge me with it!” 

“Hush, and listen to me. Clarence Richmond 
16 


170 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 

has instituted a strict inquiry, but can discover 
neither your accuser nor any proof that you poi- 
soned his sister r” 

‘‘ To the point! to the point!” 

“ Have patience. I was the one who sent those 
light-winged rumors afloat. I alone can prove their 
truth.” 

“ What a fool I have been to heed your malicious 
tongue ! What can you prove ?” 

“ I have but to suggest to Clarence that many a 
dainty delicacy found its way anonymously from this 
house to the chamber of the invalid, and to hint to 
him that it were well to have the corse disinterred 
for the purpose of analyzing the contents of the 
stomach, and — do not interrupt me — to ofier my- 
self as a witness, and ” 

“How many more ‘ ands ’? They crush me.” 

“ And — they may kill you.” 

“Are you a man, or are you a devil?” she cried, 
wildly. “It is of no avail to endeavor. to conceal 
aught from you. Listen. Do you remember that I 
once said that Grace was delicate and might fade 
from earth in a few years ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Do you remember an observation made by you 
on that occasion ?” 

“ Yes. The words were these : — ‘ Particularly if 
a certain fair friend of hers, who shall be nameless. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 171 

• 

being solicitous about preserving ber beauty, should 
employ a well-known agent called arsenic.’ ” 

“Your words rang in my ear continually, but 
I feared exposure too much to attempt to put them 
into practice. After returning from Italy, urged by 
some unaccountable impulse, I married Clinton. In 
a few months he died. The temptation to poison 
Grace Heath revived, and grew stronger day by day, 
until I could resist no longer, and then ” 

“You poisoned her.” 

“ Ho, no, no ! I mingled poison but once in what 
I sent her: then my courage failed me, and I threw 
the drug into the fire. It is possible that she never 
tasted the poisoned jelly; and, even admitting she 
did, it could not injure her. The plan of my pro- 
ceeding was to administer the arsenic in minute 
particles until it became necessary to the prolon- 
gation of life, and then withdraw it. I swear to you, 
by all my hopes of heaven, that I am innocent, save 
in intent.” 

“Precious little to swear by,” he said, dryly. 
“But suppose we settle the matter? How much 
will you give me to withhold the knowledge I pos. 
sess?” 

“ What you will,” she answered, eagerly. 

“ Good ! Ten thousand dollars will do for the 
present.” 

“ So much?” 


172 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTEESS. 


‘‘ It is a small sum to me. As we are well-tried 
Mends, I may as well give you my confidence. I 
am scarcely less devoted than you once were to the 
fascinating influence of the ” 

“I7o unpleasant reminiscences, if you please. 
Come this evening, and you shall have the money 
you require.” 

“ Eequire ? I require nothing ! Is it not a free 
gift?” 

“Yes, yes. But go now.” 

When he was gone, these words came gratingly 
through her clenched teeth : — 

“I am not yet a murderess ; but I may be.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


173 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Macbeth. Of all men else I have avoided thee. 

But get thee back ! my soul is too much charged 

With blood of thine already. 

Macduff. I have no words ! 

My voicfe is in my sword. — S hakspeake. 

It chanced, a few evenings after Xeville refused 
to accept Clarence’s challenge, that they met in the 
reading-room of the Indian Queen. 

Clarence, when he observed Xeville, immediately 
approached and struck him in the face, saying, — 

“ Coward, will you meet me now?” 

“ I cannot forgive a blow, neither the epithet you 
have bestowed upon me,” said Xeville, in tones that 
sounded strangely hoarse and low. His face was 
deadly pale, save whore the one crimson spot of 
shame burned upon his cheek. “ I will meet you ; 
but I appeal to you, gentlemen,” (turning to the 
witnesses of the rencontre,) “ that I have not sought 
this quarrel : it was forced upon me.” 

They exchanged cards, and Clarence bowed and 
withdrew. He was waited upon in the course of 
the following day by Xeville’s second, whom he re- 
ferred to Jack O’Xiel. These gentlemen arranged 
15 * 


174 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

that the meeting should take place on the following 
morning at daybreak, and that the weapons should 
be swords. 

“ I am sorry for this thing to be consummated,** 
said Jack: “it seems unnatural that these two men, 
who have been brothers in love as well as in law, 
should meet each other with the avowed intent of 
taking the life one of the other. Can we do nothing 
to effect a reconciliation ?’* 

“I fear not,** was the answer: “better let the affair 
proceed ; and, as the sword has been selected, there 
is but little fear that it will terminate fatally.** 

Clarence spent the night preceding the duel in 
writing to his family and to Agnes. 

“ Agnes, my first and only love,’* he wrote, “ it 
may be that I shall never look upon your sweet face 
again in life; and I therefore proceed to justify my- 
self in your eyes. You are aware of all that my 
poor sister suffered at the hands of that arch hypo- 
crite, ITeville Heath, during their brief married life, 
for the sake of a woman who was not worthy to 
touch the hem of Grace’s garment. Hot content 
with blighting her happiness, he must e’en take the 
life that was, it may be, of little worth to her, but 
which was much to us. There is no proof that he 
murdered her, but that he did I am convinced ; and, 
even admitting his innocence of the crime of mur- 
der, her wrongs were great enough to make him 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 175 

merit punishment, and he shall receive it at my 
hands, or I shall die beneath his. ‘Vengeance is 
mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay,* whispers 
your pure, patient woman’s heart ; hut, my Agnes, 
I cannot wait The same planet cannot hold us both ; 
for, should I meet him, I might not he possessed of 
sufficient self-control to resist the temptation to kill 
him without giving him a fair chance of defending 
that life which is so dear to all and doubly dear to 
him and to me. To him, because he loves his pre- 
sent wife ; to me, because I love my Agnes, who 
will soon, if all goes well with me, he mine. My 
heart fails me as I write, and, for the first time, a 
chilling doubt finds room within its depths, — a 
doubt of what your feelings will be in the event of 
the fall of my adversary. Agnes, you will not call 
me murderer and cast me off, should all the world 
ao so ? No, no! it cannot be; and I will doubt no 
more. Your love will follow me, dearest, through 
life, and, if need be, light me through the darkness 
of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Agnes, 
Agnes, should my life be the forfeit, you will mourn 
for me, hut not hopelessly: we shall meet again. 
Jack waits for me. I must go. My last moments 
before the meeting are devoted to you, dearest. 
With a kiss on your sweet eyes ^nd sweeter lips, I 
say farewell, — perhaps forever. Pray for me, Agnes. 
I go. Clarence.” 


176 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

He finished hastily, for Jack had called him more 
than once. As he passed into an adjoining room, he 
gave the letter for Agnes to his servant, bidding 
him deliver it to her. Then, with Jack and a sur- 
geon, he entered the carriage that was in waiting, 
and drove to the tryst of death. 

When they reached the place of appointment, 
they found Seville’s party already on the ground. 

Heville and Clarence removed their coats, and the 
latter received the weapons from Jack. Instead of 
tendering them to Heville, he tossed them at his 
feet and bade him select his weapon. Heville 
leaned and took possession of one of them, say- 
ing,— 

“I have no fear that you have tampered with 
them. You are a man of honor.” 

“And as such am sadly out of my sphere in your 
presence.” 

Their attendants had withdrawn a few paces ; and 
Yeville, as is usual, oflered his. hand, which was 
haughtily rejected by Clarence, who bowed with cold 
politeness. 

“ I cannot touch the hand that is, in the sight of 
God and the angels, stained with my sister’s blood.” 

“I wronged her deeply, Clarence ; but I swear to 
you that I am innocent of the crime of which I stand 
charged by you.” 

“Enough ! Must I again say cowardT' 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 177 

Their swords crossed with that dull clashing 
sound which sends a thrill of horror through the 
frame when it falls on the ear. They were fairly 
matched, and some slight wounds had been given 
and received ; but the contest promised to he long, 
and it was impossible to judge which would he the 
victor, when the sun, which had been overcast, sud- 
denly flashed forth in golden glory and shone full 
in the eyes of Clarence, who stood with his face to 
the east. Dazzled and bewildered by the sudden 
glow, he was thrown off his guard, and the sword of 
his antagonist was sheathed in his bosom. Jack 
sprang forward, caught the swaying form in his 
arms, and laid him on the sward. The others 
gathered around, and IS'eville knelt beside him, cry- 
ing, wildly,— 

“i7ow, indeed, am I a murderer! But oh, be- 
lieve me, Clarence, when I solemnly swear to you 
that I am innocent of Grace’s death.” 

“What flend possessed you to do this deed. 
Heath?” said the surgeon, aside. “You are indeed 
guilty of his death : the wound is mortal.” 

“ Too well I know it, and am most wretched.” 

His friend drew him from the group and placed 
him in the carriage, which was driven rapidly away. 

“ This can scarcely prove fatal, doctor,” said Jack, 
who still supported Clarence’s head on his breast. 
“ The hemorrhage is slight.” 

M 


178 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

If you know any thing of the sword-exercise, 
you will understand what follow when the lungs 
are lacerated, — mortification and death.” 

“ My God ! my God ! he is guilty of wilful and 
deliberate murder ! Agnes ! — my poor sister ! Why 
did I countenance this thing?” 

“You have nothing to reproach yourself with, 
sir ; for who would have dreamed that he was such 
a scoundrel ?” 

They placed Clarence in the carriage and con- 
ducted him home with as much speed as was ad- 
visable. 

As they approached his father’s house, they were 
perceived by Love, who had been watching in 
agonized suspense for their coming from the time 
that the letter written by Clarence communicating 
the fact of the contemplated duel had been placed in 
her hands. 

Her parents were still ignorant of the whole affair. 
Love, fearing the worst, yet hoping for the best, 
had kept the knowledge from them. She hastened 
down the steps with trembling eagerness ; but, when 
Clarence was lifted from the carriage to all appear- 
ance dead, she fied up the steps and into her mo- 
ther’s room, screaming, “Papa, mamma, Clarence 
is dead !” and then sank senseless at their feet. 

Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, with faces pallid as 
marble, raised her from the fioor; and then the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 179 

latter turned toward the door. But ere she reached 
it Jack O’Niel and the surgeon appeared upon the 
threshold, bearing the body of her son in their 
arms. 

“Jack, is he dead?” she cried: “oh, tell me that 
he is not dead !” 

“ He is not dead, dear madam, hut he is danger- 
ously wounded. Surely you were prepared for 
this?” 

“ How should I he prepared ? How did he re- 
ceive this wound?” said Mrs. Kichmond, as she 
bent over her son, who had been placed upon the 
bed. 

“ Can it he, Mrs. Richmond, that you have not 
received a note from him acquainting you with the 
fact that he was to fight a duel this morning ?” in- 
quired Jack. 

“We received no such communication,” answered 
Mr. Richmond, for his wife. “ With whom has he 
fought ? and for what cause ?” 

“ With Heville Heath, sir, — in his sister’s cause,” 
answered Jack. 

“My dear madam,” said the surgeon, noticing 
for the first time the insensible form of Love, and 
wishing to arouse Mrs. Richmond from the stupor 
of grief into which she had fallen, “ you can do 
nothing here that I cannot do better; but your 
daughter needs your motherly care.” 


180 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Mrs. Eichmoud regarded him with a vacant look 
for an instant, then again turned her eyes upon the 
white face of her son. 

Mr. Eichmond and Jack set about restoring the 
fainting girl, and soon succeeded in so doing. 

“ Mother!” murmured Clarence. 

This was the first word he had uttered ; and his 
mother’s face and eyes relaxed, and she burst into a 
passion of tears. 

“Mother 1” 

Again the faint tones fell upon her ear. She 
restrained the expression of her feelings, and re- 
sponded, — 

“ What is it, Clare ?” 

“ Tell Agnes to come to me.” 

“ I will go for her at once,” said Jack. 

“Doctor,” inquired Mr. Eichmond, “will he die, 
think you?” 

“ Tell us the truth : I can bear it now,” said Mrs. 
Eichmond, as the surgeon glanced at her and 
hesitated. 

“ He cannot live three days.” 

“Why am I so smitten?” cried the anguished 
mother. “All are gone, and I am desolate I” 

“Hot all, mamma: you forget papa and me,” 
said Love, who was standing by with tearful 
eyes. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


181 


“ Forgive me : I know not what I say, my babe, 
my little Love.” 

She drew Love’s bead downward until it rested on 
her bosom. They wept together for a time, then 
crushed back the tears and were prepared to minis- 
ter to the dying son and brother. 


16 




182 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Thou liest low and silent ; 

Thy heart is cold and still ; 

Thine eyes are dark forever, 

And Death hath had his will. 

He loved, and would have taken ; 

I loved, and would have kept : 

We strove ; and he was stronger. 

And — I have never wept. — J. R. Lowell. 

Through some carelessness on the part of the 
servant to whom Clarence intrusted the letter for 
Agnes, it had failed to reach her ; and when J ack 
entered the parlor in search of her he was as- 
tonished to find her romping merrily with her 
young brothers and sisters. , 

“Agnes,” he said, “I am inexpressibly shocked! 
I have always thought you rather cold and unim- 
pressible, but imagined that you loved Clarence too 
well to be so heartlessly indifferent to his fate.” 

“What now. Jack?” said Agnes, smiling: “am 
I to be constantly in a state of anxiety and agita- 
tion lest Clarence meet with some accident? You 
have peculiar ideas concerning love and engage- 
ment. W'hat now ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


183 


“ Poor girl ! it is evident that she too is igno- 
rant,” thought Jack. ‘‘This is the second time this 
morning that I have been forced to communicate 
evil tidings. Forgive me, Agnes,” he said, aloud : 
“ I thought you had received a note from Clarence 
this morning, telling you that he was to fight with 
Neville Heath ; and, as a matter of course, I expected 
you to manifest some anxiety concerning the issue 
of the matter.” 

Agnes had listened with a bewildered expression 
in her eyes ; but, as soon as Jack ceased speaking, 
she exclaimed, eagerly, — 

“ He is safe, brother, is he not ?” Then her face 
turned white, and she cried, “But why is he not 
here ? He is dead ! Oh, Jack, if he is dead, then 
will I die too !” 

“ Hush, Agnes, hush. He is not dead ; but he is 
badly wounded, and asks for you.” 

“ Let me go to him ; let me go.” 

She threw a lace veil over her head and sprang 
toward the door. But Jack detained her forcibly, 
and bade one of his sisters bring Agnes’s hat and 
mantle. When she had donned both, he drew her 
arm through his and led her from the house. It was 
with some difficulty that he was enabled to keep 
pace with her rapid movements. When they were 
opposite Mr. Richmond’s residence, she snatched 


184 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

her hand away, fled across the street, up the steps, 
into Mrs. Eichmond’s room. 

The scene that presented itself as she stood in 
the doorway was not one calculated to reassure her. 
Clarence’s deathlike figure was stretched upon the 
bed, with Mr. Eichmond and the surgeon bending 
over him, while his mother and sister stood near, 
weeping. Agnes’s eyes shone with a wild and 
troubled light for an instant ; and then she walked 
deliberately to the bedside and sat down, saying, 
quietly,— 

“ So he is dead : Jack had no need to deceive me.’* 

Clarence, who had been lying with closed eyes, 
opened them when he heard her voice, and a faint 
smile swept over his face as he stretched forth his 
hands to welcome her. This roused her from the 
unnatural calm, and, leaning over him, she kissed 
his lips. 

“So,” he said, smiling again, “you give me 
voluntarily the caress that yesterday I might have 
plead for and still have been denied.” 

“Why, Clarence, Jack told me that you were 
dangerously wounded. But the wound is slight, is 
it not ?” Without waiting for an answer, she went 
on : — “ When I heard that you were wounded, my 
heart stood still. It beats again, dearest.” 

“Be not deceived, Agnes: I am dangerously 
wounded. You must be prepared for the worst.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 185 

She looked inquiringly at the surgeon. 

“ It is as he says, young lady. These sword-cuts 
are ugly things ; and it were as well for you to he 
prepared for the issue, whatever it may be.” 

“ Are you dying, Clarence ?” she asked, in a low, 
hushed voice : “you must tell me : should any other, 
I may go mad.” 

He passed his arm around her, and drew her face 
downward until her cheek touched his. 

“I am dying, Agnes; and you will neither go 
mad nor die, but hear this like a noble-hearted 
woman. I do not say that you will forget me and 
love again : you cannot. You will live and fulfil your 
mission here, for my sake, dearest, and then ” 

“I shall come to you.” 

Clarence became delirious after a time, and seemed 
to suffer intense agony. He raved wildly until 
about a half-hour before his death, which occurred 
at one o’clock on the third night after the duel. 

Mr. Eichmond and Love, worn out with almost 
incessant watching, had forgotten their anxiety in 
sleep. But his mother and Agnes, faithful and 
watchful to the last, sat beside him. 

When he awakened from the troubled sleep 
into which he had fallen, his mind was perfectly 
clear. 

“Do you suffer, my son?” asked Mrs. Eich- 
inond. 


16 * 


186 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“Intensely,” he answered; “but I shall not suffer 
long. Don’t cry, mother. You are too good a 
Christian to question the wisdom and justice of an 
all-wise God. I might cause you far greater sorrow, 
should I live to be a disgrace to you, than to die a 
good son now. I have been a good son, have I not, 
mother?” 

“Mother was never blessed with a better, my 
Clare!” 

“ Thank you : I could not be otherwise with so 
good a mother.” 

“ Agnes is here. Would you like to see her?” 

“ Agnes here ? Where, mother ?” 

Agnes, who had withdrawn a little upon his 
awakening, stepped forward and knelt beside him. 

“This is more than I dared hope for, Agnes. 
How long have you watched with mother?” 

“During your illness, Clarence.” 

“ But how long has that been ? You look pale 
and wearied.” 

“Pale, perhaps, but not wearied.” 

“ How long, Agnes ?” 

“ Three days and three nights.” 

“And you have been with me all that time ?” 

“ It was my right, Clarence.” 

“I should be the last to question it, Agnes.” 

“ It was a right, — and, though a mournful one, a 
pleasure.” 


MAGDALEX THE ENCHANTRESS. 187 

“ Mother, call father and Love, please. I would 
hear my sister’s sweet voice, and receive a kiss from 
each, ere I close my eyes forever.” 

Their slumbers were light, and they soon stood 
beside him. Agnes made a movement as if to with- 
draw herself from his embrace to give place to 
Love, but he would not permit it. 

“Your place is here, my Agnes,” he said, 
gently. “Sing for me, sister Love, and you too, 
mother.” 

Their voices faltered slightly, as they rang 
sweetly through the death-chamber in a grand 
old hymn. 

“I shall soon hear the music of the angels; 
but it can be scarcely sweeter than your dear 
voices.” 

He kissed them and closed his eyes in a gen- 
tle slumber, from which he never wakened on 
earth. 

Even after Mrs. Richmond had reclosed the ejes 
that partly opened when the spirit was released, 
saying, softly, “He is dead!” Agnes did not raise 
her head from his bosom. Mrs. Richmond, after 
calling her twice without eliciting a response, 
lifted her head, half fearing, half hoping that she 
had not been separated from him she loved so 
well, even in death. But it was not so : she had 
only fainted. 


188 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

On the morning of the funeral, Agnes’s sister 
Mary entered her room to see if she were ready to 
go, and found, much to her astonishment, that 
Agnes had substituted full for the half mourning 
attire she had worn previous to this time. 

“Why, Agnes, what will the world say?” 

“I do not know, Mary. That Agnes O’l^iel is 
hold, it may he, or that she is right. It matters 
little to me what is said. I shall give expression to 
my feelings in my own way.” 

They were joined by Jack, who remarked her cos- 
tume and evidently approved her course, though he 
said nothing. When she entered the parlor where 
the corse of her lover was lying in its coffin, all eyes 
were turned upon her. Some who had expected to 
see her overwhelmed with grief were disappointed 
when she appeared before them with a slow though 
unfaltering step and calm unmoved demeanor, and 
thought her mourning-robes an affectation of sorrow; 
others read in the pale face, that gleamed so white 
and sad through the mourning- veil, the woe, too 
deep for tears, that had withered her heart. 

When the service for the dead was concluded, Mr. 
Richmond, recognising her as Clarence’s widow, 
stepped forward and led her to the coffin. She 
threw back her veil and kissed him for the last time, 
fmd then returned quietly to Jack. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


189 


CHAPTER XXVI. • 

There stands a spectre in your hall : 

The guilt of blood is at your door : 

You changed a wholesome heart to gall. . . . 

Tennyson. 

Turn we now to Xeville. 

After leaving Clarence bleeding upon the field, 
he hastened into Magdalen’s presence. 

‘‘Magdalen,” he cried, “you will be the cause of 
my losing my own soul yet, — if it is not already 
lost!” 

She looked wonderingly upon his pale face, and 
eagerly questioned him concerning the cause of his 
agitation. 

“ Clarence, maddened by the suspicion that I had 
poisoned Grace ” 

“Tow suspected of having poisoned her?” she 
interrupted : “I thought I was the accused party.” 

“Xo one blames you; I am the one. Well, 
as I said but now, Clarence, maddened by the 
suspicion that I had poisoned Grace for love of 
you, sent me a challenge, which I instantly de- 
clined to accept. Determined to oblige me to 


190 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

meet him, he insulted me publicly, striking and 
branding me as a coward. I was compelled to chal- 
lenge him. We fought this morning, and I wounded 
him mortally.” 

Even Magdalen’s selfish, heartless nature was 
touched ; and she exclaimed, — 

Oh, E^eville ! why did you do this fearful deed ? 
Poor fellow ! so young, and so truly noble !” 

“ I know not what devil possessed me, but, after 
my weapon had entered his right lung, I turned it in 
the wound, Magdalen, in my own eyes and in the 
sight of God I am a murderer!” 

“Do not fear, my husband,” said Magdalen, 
winding her arms about him and endeavoring to 
soothe him : “ you are penitent, and God will for- 
give you.” 

“I can never forgive myself, — can never forget 
that I have killed one whom I have ever regarded 
as a brother. Magdalen, I would to God that 
I had died ere I looked upon your face !” He 
paused for a moment, and continued, less violently, 
“There will he a strong feeling against me, and 
I must leave you for a time. Go to Mrs. Rich- 
mond, after the death of her son, and say to her 
that if the forfeit of my life could recall that of 
Clarence I would yield it willingly. Tell her 
that I dare not ask her forgiveness, but that I 
implore her pity. That even her mother’s heart 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 191 

can be scarcely so wretched as mine. Do not 
forget. Farewell.” 

A few days after Clarence’s death, Magdalen 
called at Mrs. Richmond’s. She was doubtful as to 
the reception she would meet with from the Rich- 
monds, but she loved her husband too well to hesi- 
tate in obeying the command he had given her. 
She was fearful that Mrs. Richmond would refuse 
to see her if she gave her name ; so she bade the 
servant say to his mistress that a lady wished 
to see her. When Mrs. Richmond, upon enter- 
ing, recognised her visitor, she recoiled shudder- 
ingly. 

‘‘ Magdalen, why are you here ? I had hoped 
that I had met you for the last time. Do you come 
in the radiance of your new-found happiness to 
mock our misery with hollow words of consola- 
tion ?” 

“I know you must hate me,” said Magdalen, her 
beautiful eyes filling with tears, ‘‘and I am very 
unhappy. It was my fate to love R'eville, and, when 
he became free, I did not refiect that it would look 
strangely for me to marry him so soon after the 
death of his wife. And I had neither mother, 
brother, nor sister to counsel me.” 

Even the grief-bowed mother was not proof 
against the pleading glance of the tearful eyes that 
gazed into hers, and answered, gently, — 


192 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“I do not hate you, Magdalen. It is not your 
fault, my child, that you are bewilderingly beauti- 
ful. E’either do I blame Neville for loving you ; but 
I do blame him for marrying Grace while his heart 
was yours, and for murdering Clarence.” Mrs. 
Kichmond had grown stern again. 

“ He was self-deceived, believe me. He thought 
he loved Grace, or he would not have married her. 
He had no object to attain by marrying her. As 
for his ” 

“Murdering Clarence,” concluded Mrs. Rich- 
mond, as Magdalen hesitated : “ what have you to 
urge in justification of that ?” 

“The object of this visit was to convey a mes- 
sage from him to you. ‘ Go to Mrs. Richmond,’ he 
said, ‘ and say to her that if the forfeit of my life 
could recall that of Clarence I would yield it wil- 
lingly. Tell her that I dare not ask her forgiveness, 
but that I implore her pity. That even her mother’s 
heart can be scarcely so wretched as mine.’ He 
charged me to tell you this. What is your an- 
swer?” 

“ Tell him that it would ill become me to with- 
hold my forgiveness if he is truly penitent ” 

The door was thrown violently open, and Love 
sprang into the room. 

“ Mamma,” she cried, “ how can you sit here and 
listen to her? How can you live in her presence? 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 193 

She destroys body and soul of all she approaches. 
How many hearts have you broken, Magdalen? 
How many deaths have you caused ? If the secrets 
of every household were known, how many of their 
inmates would call you their curse ?’* 

“Hush, my child! hush!” 

“ I cannot, mother ! I will not ! Do you remem- 
ber, Magdalen, your wild prophecy of Grace’s 
future life that we all laughed at as the ravings 
of delirium? There was method in your mad- 
ness ; and all that you foretold has come to pass, 
even unto the poisoning ! I could curse you ; but I 
will not.” 

“Hush, my child ! hush !” 

“Mother, I cannot. You have sacrificed two 
lives, Magdalen, to become the wife of a man who 
shall cause you to suffer all that Grace suffered, and 
more. Trouble upon trouble, woe upon woe, shall 
come upon you, till you pray, but in vain, for the 
quiet of the grave or the Lethe of madness ! God 
has promised to avenge our wrongs, and they will 
be avenged. Clarence, in rash impetuosity, tried to 
forestall God’s justice, and was terribly punished. 
I can wait ! It may be that years will pass ere retri- 
bution overtakes you, but, that it will overtake you, 
rest assured. 0 Grace! O Clare! you will be 
avenged!” 

“ I do not blame you. Love, for saying such bitter 
N 17 


194 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


things to and predicting such a dark future for 
me,” said Magdalen, with seeming sorrow; ‘‘but 
indeed I do not deserve to he so wounded.” 

“Pardon her, Magdalen,” said Mrs. Richmond, 
rising to attend her visitor to the door : “ she was 
always a wild, wilful little thing, and our recent 
bereavement has made her nervous and irritable. 
Instead of blaming you, she should blame Se- 
ville ” 

“ Blame I^eville ! Poor brother ITeville ! I pity 
him, and hate her for making him what he has 
become, — a murderer. Mother, you do not know 
her. I never dreamed that a refined woman could 
disguise herself as a midshipman and follow a 
naval officer to Norfolk for the purpose of show- 
ing the depth of her love for him : that she at- 
tempted such a thing I know.” 

“There have been many false things said of 
me since I entered so thoughtlessly into this 
hasty marriage. But I forgive my enemies. Good- 
bye, Mrs. Richmond ; I thank you for your kind 
reception of one who has been the indirect and 
unhappy cause of sore trouble to you. Good- 
ly®? Rove : you are wont to be just and generous : 
you will be sorry for your harsh judgment of me at 
some future time.” 

She dropped her veil over her tear-stained face, 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 195 

and left Mrs. Richmond disposed to pity her while 
she was vexed with Love. 

“ Fool !” muttered Magdalen, as she rode home- 
ward : “ if she values peace and happiness, she 
would far better have acted diiferently toward me. 
I may cross her yet.” 


196 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTEE XXVn, 

Touch not the hand they stretch to you ; 

The falsely proffer’d cup put by ; 

Will you believe a coward true. 

Or taste the poison’d draught to die ? 

W. G. Simms. 

It was as 1^'eville had suspected. There was 
much feeling against him, but the duel and its 
tragic termination ceased, after a time, to be the 
all-ahsorhing topic of conversation. 

Magdalen had anticipated much happiness in her 
new marriage ; but she was destined to be bitterly dis- 
appointed. N’eville was continually haunted by the 
memory of Clarence: a vague fear of death and 
punishment pursued him as a shadow. Magdalen 
perceived that she was gradually losing the influence 
over his heart that she had once possessed. She noted 
his growing indifference, and exerted all her power 
of fascination to retain his love, but without avail. 
He was changeable as a wayward child. At times 
he would lavish caresses upon her ; again he would 
reproach her as the cause of misery to himself and 
all connected with him. Even the deep love with 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


19T 


which she regarded him became a source of irrita- 
tion to him. For once the “ Enchantress” was at fault. 
Had she loved him less unselfishly, or even appeared 
indifierent, she would have had no difficulty in 
merging his being into hers. As it was, he held the 
balance of power that would make or mar her hap- 
piness. She lived in constant dread of losing the 
love that was of such value in her eyes, and the re- 
membrance of Love’s wild words did not tend to 
quiet her fears. She began to comprehend that 
there was such a thing as punishment for evil-doing, 
even on earth. 

“ There may be such a thing as retribution,” she 
would say to her child, as he stood beside her and 
gazed lovingly into her face; “and, if any one has 
cause to fear, it is I. Your mother, whom you love 
so dearly, boy, has caused much sorrow and suffering, 
both heedlessly and heedfully. But, come what 
will, I shall never be punished by you, my babe. 
You will ever regard with unwavering love and 
confidence your only friend. I remember that I 
read but yesterday — in a curious old book, called the 
Bible, that you know nothing about, child — that the 
sins of the parents were visited upon their children. 
God grant, if there be suffering in store for you, 
the burden may be transferred to me, my darling!” 

These imaginary troubles soon gave place to real 

ones. Heville followed in the footsteps of thousands 
17 * 


198 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

of men who, like himself, crushed to the earth with 
remorse, seek to forget the stings of conscience in 
dissipation instead of endeavoring to find peace in 
penitence. He had been in his youth and young 
manhood temperate in all things ; and, as might be 
expected, when he commenced the downward course, 
he sank rapidly to the lowest depths of degradation. 
Magdalen was well aware of the powerful attractions 
of the gaming-table, and, knowing that he cared 
nothing for money in his miserable state of mind, 
saw, with a feeling of bitter disappointment, that the 
fortune she had determined her son should inherit 
would be quickly swallowed up, and, worse still, that 
the property left by Captain Clinton would inevita- 
bly follow. 

“Heville,” she once said to him, ‘‘why will you 
continue this mad career? Have you no pity for 
yourself?” 

“Hone. I deserve no pity.” 

“ Have you no pity for me ?” 

“ Magdalen, did you pit}^ Grace ? — did you pity 
Kate ? Have you ever felt pity for any one ?” 

“ But they were nothing to me. I am your wife.” 

“ True, you are my wife. As a good wife, my love 
is your life. Live : I love you. You wish to pro- 
mote my happiness. I cannot be happy ; but I can 
forget for a time my misery. Surely you, who are 
the cause of it, will not deny me thus much ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 199 

“But you deceive yourself. After passing a night 
in gaming, meeting almost invariably heavy losses, 
you feel more guilty and despairing than before !” 

“You turning preacher, Magdalen! Hencefor- 
ward nothing will astonish me.’’ 

“Do not talk so, Heville. Eemember that if 
you continue thus unfortunate — which is probable — 
your fortune will not last forever.” 

“I would be justified, after hearing such language 
from your lips, in suspecting you of loving not my- 
self, but my possessions. Once for all, Magdalen, 
my gold is my own, and I shall use it as I please. 
Your fortune was larger than mine. It is gone ; but 
I never questioned you concerning the manner in 
which it was expended.” 

Magdalen quailed at this home-thrust. 

“ Do not get angry, please. I care not how soon 
you lose your fortune, so I do not lose your heart. 
You have ceased to love me, Heville.” 

“Hone of that! none of that!” he exclaimed, im- 
patiently, “ or you will cause me to lose both my 
temper and my patience. I thought we were done 
with all nonsense about love. Love and sentiment 
may do well enough before marriage, but it is a 
confounded bore after. Grace never worried me in 
that way.” 

He left the room, and his wife sat down and cried, 
half in grief, half in angry passion. 


200 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


‘‘I will hate him!” she murmured, as her black 
eyes flashed. “He shall not find me the foolish, 
love-sick girl to die broken-hearted because of his 
indifierence, as did Grace. I will give all my heart 
to my child.” 

This, she found, was an impossibility ; and he con- 
tinued to sway her as she had once swayed him. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


201 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Lone minstrel of the pensive lyre, 

. ^ Oh, let not grief attune thy lay. 

For sadness blights each holier fire 
And scatters gloom o’er all thy way. 

Then, minstrel, when thy heart is sad. 

Betake thee to the flowery field, 

Where beauty walks in young spring clad, 

And hope and joy their influence yield. 

Miss Phelps. 

‘‘Don’t look so sad, my child,” said Mr. Rich- 
mond to his daughter. 

“ I can’t help it, papa. I feel sad.” 

“ Feel sad ! Why, I thought, after receiving the 
precious letter that heralded the approach of Lionel, 
you would cast aside your pensive airs.” 

“ Do not laugh at me, papa. I have a presenti- 
ment that there is more trouble in store for me.” 

“Honsense! There are no such things as pre- 
sentiments in good, common-sense, every-day life. 
They exist only in the imagination of romantic 
young ladies in love.”. 

“ Laugh as you will ; but I am sure that some- 
thing will happen to Lionel.” 


202 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“Pshaw! he will come in a few days, and you 
will join me in laughter at your foolish fears.” 

“We will see,” she said, sadly. 

“Well, well, it is the especial privilege and hap- 
piness of lovers to imagine all sorts of dangers and 
crosses, and so on. Enjoy yourself. But can’t you 
condescend to leave your dreams for a time and 
sing for me ?” 

“ I cannot leave them,” she answered, receiving 
her guitar from her father, “but I can embody them 
if you will.” 

“ So much the better, Babie. I have a curiosity 
to know what your dreams are.” 

Mr. Richmond smiled as she swept the strings 
and called forth a strain of wild melody. 

“ I know what that betokens, — a song of the sea.” 

Near by the surging sea 
Dwelt Lady Zaire ; 

Blue as the waves her eyes, 

Sun-bright her hair. 

Pure as the ocean-foam 
Was Lady Zaire ; 

Free was her heart from guile 
As from all care. 

Soon o’er her summer sky 
Dark shadows fell, 

And from her azure eyes 
Pearly drops well. 

Her love but yestere’en 
Kiss’d her sweet lip, 

And, with a sadden’d brow, 

Sail’d in his ship. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS, 


203 


“ Maiden, why lingerest thou ?” 

Said Lady Zaire ; 

“My love will come to-night; - 
Braid thou my hair ; 

Braid it with pearls of price 
And diamonds bright. 

Maiden, why turnest thou 
Cold, and so white ?” 

“ Lady ! alas for thee ! 

Lord Harold’s head 
Lies low and dreamless now : 

Thy love is dead !” 

Down to the surging sea 
Fled Lady Zaire, — 

Tearless her gleaming eyes. 

Unbound her hair. 

Soon o’er the surging sea 
Zara’s voice rang. 

As, in wild thrilling tones, 

Thus Zara sang ; — 

“ Low moans the wind, beloved. 

O’er the bright wave 
Sighing a requiem 
Over thy grave. 

Come o’er the sea, beloved. 
Come o’er the sea : 

I am in tears, beloved. 
Waiting for thee! 

“ Say, dost thou wander, love, 

’Mid red coral caves ? 

Oh, shall I seek thee, love. 

Under the waves*? 

Come o’er the sea, beloved, > 
Come o’er the sea : 

I am in tears, beloved. 
Waiting for thee ! 


204 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“Nay, I will wait, beloved, 

Till thou com’st to me : 

Hasten, oh, hasten, love; 

I wait for thee. 

Come o’er the sea, beloved, 
Come o’er the sea : 

I am in tears, beloved, 
Waiting for thee.” 

Lo ! as she ceased her song. 
Mournfully sweet. 

Her lost love was borne along 
E’en to her feet. 


Love had been so absorbed in her song, bad so 
identified Lionel with Harold and herself with 
Zaire, that she bad not noted the entrance of a 
guest, — a gentleman who, after placing bis band 
over Mr. Kichmond’s lips and whispering some- 
thing in bis ear, silently accepted the seat that 
gentleman vacated. 

Love did not immediately turn toward her father ; 
for she feared bis laughter. Wondering a little at 
bis silence, she asked, laughingly, — 

“Well, papa, are you charmed into silence by my 
Circe song. Is the critic disarmed for once ?” 

“Love,” said a deep, rich, musical voice, that sent 
a thrill through her heart and then held her spell- 
bound, — immovable, almost breathless, — “ Love, 
have you no welcome for me ?” 

When he ceased speaking, she turned her head 
slowly, and her eyes dilated as she gazed upon the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


205 


stranger. She felt as one in a dream until he held 
out his arms. With a quick movement she sprang 
forward, and they closed around her. Like a silly 
little thing, she hid her face on his bosom and 
began to cry. 

“ Are you sorry, Love,’' he said, as he turned her 
face to the light, “that I destroyed your romance 
and came with life in my heart and health in my 
cheeks, instead of being washed, by the sad sea- 
waves, pale and lifeless to your feet?” 

She answered his smile with one as bright, as she 
replied, — 

“ I can dispense with the romance now, Lionel ; 
but, in future years, it may be that I will change.” 

He laughed. 

“ Saucy as ever, I see. But you will never have 
cause to regret my safe return to you, my Love, 
through any act of mine,” he concluded, more 
seriously. 

“ I believe you, Lionel. Tour love has been well 
tried.” 

“And yours. Love.” 

Mr. Richmond signalled his approach by whistling 
“ Love’s Young Dream.” Thus admonished, Lionel 
bestowed a quick caress upon Love, and released 
her. 

“What do you think of presentiments now, 
daughter Love ?” 

18 


206 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“We will not discuss that interesting sub- 
ject at this time, if you please, papa,” answered 
Love. 

“You came upon us unexpectedly,” said Mr. 
Richmond to Lionel. 

“ Yes, sir. As soon as our vessel cast anchor I 
hurried to Washington.” 

“ When will you sail again ?” inquired Love. 

“Yever. I intend resigning my commission. 
Why, I thought I would please you by so doing,” 
he said, in a disappointed tone, as Love patted her 
foot and pouted her lip. 

“ It has been her lifelong desire to be the bride 
of a naval officer, that she might be happy by 
making herself miserable during his absence,” 
laughed Mr. Richmond. 

“Well, Love, your will is law. Shall I retain or 
resign my commission ?” 

“ Retain it, by all means. I always love you far 
more deeply while you are away. We will be glad 
to meet after a parting.” 

“Woman’s wiles,” he whispered, bending over 
her. “You wish me to say that, present or absent, 
I will love you just the same ; but I won’t.” 

“That was an unlucky blunder of mine,” she 
answered, laughing, her eyes still downcast. “I 
have lost my power.” 

“Ro, no! you little tyrant! You were cunning 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


207 


enougli to rivet my chains ere you enlightened 
me.” 

“What is that about riveting chains ?” asked Mr. 
Richmond. “Has the ‘Enchantress’ fastened her 
evil eye upon you ? She is the only forger of links 
of gilded iron wherewith to bind her captives. 
Once yield you her prisoner, and you will not so 
easily break from the iron bonds as from the slight 
cords usually employed for a like purpose by ladies 
fair.” 

“ Quite a highflown speech for you, papa. One 
would think, to hear you talk, that you speak from 
experience.” 

“ No, no : I was wise, and kept away from her. 
I would humbly advise you to follow my example, 
young sir.” 

“ Please do not talk of Magdalen, papa. I do not 
like to think, much less speak, of her.” 

“Why?” asked Lionel. “Pardon me,” he con- 
tinued, hastily: “I was carelessly forgetful.” 

“It is not that she has been the curs4 of our 
house that I dislike to mention or hear her men- 
tioned.” 

“ I may then repeat, why ?” 

“Because I always hear her denounced, and I 
cannot defend her.” 

“I should think not. She is the only woman I 
have ever hated and despised.” 


208 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“Strong language, Lionel. What reason have 
you to hate and despise her?” 

“ None personally, sir ; hut I am conversant with 
her impish conduct to others, — friends.” 

“You might as well have dispensed with polite- 
ness, and used the stronger expression that was 
on your tongue, — devilish,” said Mr. Richmond, 
smiling. 

“I pity her,” said Love. 

“ She does not deserve pity from any one, — cer- 
tainly not from you. I know her thoroughly, — 
better than either of you.” 

“Scarcely,” said Love, in a low voice. “But, 
much as she has caused me to suffer, it is a singular 
fact that, loathe her as I may when she is absent, I 
am swayed by her like a lily in the wind when I 
chance to enter her presence.” 

“ Is her happiness sufficient to compensate for the 
loss of the respect of the world which she so reck- 
lessly sacrificed?” 

“ On ^e contrary, she is utterly wretched. That 
she loves Neville devotedly I cannot doubt; and he 
repays her devotion with scorn and contempt. I 
know this to be so, for this is his course in public. 
If it be worse in private, God pity her, as I do.” 

“How does she receive such treatment?” 

“ Meekly and uncomplainingly ; and no one dares 
to blame him in her presence.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 209 

“It may be that this is the fire of purification.” 

“ It is to be hoped that it is ; but I fear not. She 
is as reckless as of old of the happiness of others, 
and stops at nothing that will advance her own 
interests.” 

Mrs. Richmond appeared at the door, and, after 
warmly welcoming Lionel, led the way to supper. 


0 


18 * 


210 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 

Some meeker pupil you must find ; 

For, were you queen of all that is, 

I could not stoop to such a mind. 

You sought to prove how I could love. 

And my disdain is my reply : 

The lion on your old stone gates 

Is not more cold to you than I. — Tennyson. 

One evening, some two months after Lionel’s 
return, he accompanied Love to a large party, — the 
first she had attended since her brother’s death. 
Lionel lingered near her until he was compelled to 
withdraw for a time to give place to the numerous 
gentlemen who circled round her for the purpose 
of welcoming her again into society. After being 
thrust from the side of his lady-love, he sought a 
quiet corner and soon fell into the lover-like occu- 
pation of dreaming. He was startled from his 
reverie by the appearance of a lady who glided 
to his side and sank gracefully into the seat he 
vacated. 

“ Ah, Mr. Percy, you are very cruel to withdraw 
your animating presence to this secluded nook,” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 211 

she cried, with a bewildering glance of her beautiful 
eyes. 

“ Good-evening, Mrs. Heath,” said Lionel, care- 
lessly. 

“You greet your friends very coldly,” she ob- 
served, reproachfully. 

“Pardon toe, madam: I was not aware that you 
were classed among my friends. You never before 
condescended to bestow a single smile upon me, if 
I recollect aright.” 

“Ah, that was when I did not know the noble 
qualities of heart which you possess. I must ever 
regard you highly for your disinterested attentions 
to Charles.” 

“You were not inconsolable for his loss, it 
seems ?” 

“ It was not for my own happiness that I entered 
into this second marriage,” she answered, somewhat 
abashed by his steady glance, “ but for the purpose 
of advancing the interests of my child.” 

“A praiseworthy motive, truly.” 

She detected the irony, but concluded to under- 
stand his words in their literal sense. 

“ I knew you would commend my course.” 

“So it is only for the sake of another that you 
think well of me?” observed he. 

“Ah,” she thought, “he is becoming interested! 
I will yet be revenged on Love Kichmond for her 


212 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

insolence!” “I think well of you for your own,” 
she said aloud. 

“ Mrs. Heath, you have been misinformed in re- 
gard to me.” 

“ Oh, no ! that were impossible. I can quote the 
best authority. Captain Clinton’s successor (Captain 
Berry) has but just informed me of your unwavering 
kindness to my husband.” 

“Madam, it was not in regard ta my conduct 
toward Captain Clinton wherein you were misin- 
formed. I believe I acquitted myself during his 
illness as a friend should.” 

“You speak in enigmas.” 

“ I will give you the key to the enigma : I am 
not wealthy.” 

“Another enigma,” she said, smilingly. “Speak 
plainly.” 

Magdalen did not like the turn the conversation 
had taken, still less Lionel’s tone. 

“ Madam, I will speak plainly, — so plainly that you 
cannot even affect to misunderstand my meaning. I 
was presented to you in company with my friend 
Captain Clinton. You bestowed all your sweet smiles 
and bright glances upon the wealthy commandant, — 
I do not quarrel with you on that score: he was 
worthy the love and admiration of any woman, — 
while you ignored the presence of the poor subal- 
tern. How you court my society. Why the sudden 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 213 

change? You say it is because of my friendship to 
Captain Clinton. I do not believe that to he the 
motive that actuates you. Some one has played 
upon your credulity by telling you that I am a man 
of wealth. As a man of wealth you deem me 
eligible as a third husband should your present one 
die. It is useless to waste bewildering smiles and 
glances upon me, madam. You are not likely to 
he a widow soon ; and, even if you were, I am en- 
gaged to a lady a thousand times your superior in 
graces of person as well as in graces of mind and 
heart. You have been both hypocrite and intriguer 
all your life, and something worse, a gamester and a 
murderess, — the last in intent, if not in fact. I trust 
this conference will be our last. I do not wish to 
he driven to the disagreeable necessity of cutting 
you. ‘A word to the wise.’ Madam, I have the 
honor of bidding you a very good-evening, and 
of wishing you no better success in your next 
attempt to catch a gold fish to be salted for future 
use.” 

With a slight inclination of the head and a con- 
temptuous smile curving his handsome lips, Lionel 
sauntered carelessly away, leaving Magdalen fairly 
petrified with astonishment and anger. 

“ That is final,” she muttered, as he turned from 
her. “It is as he says: I can gain no ascendency 


214 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


over him, if I glance and smile forever. I hate him 
even more intensely than Henry Calvert.'' 

“ His remarks were rather scathing, and none the 
less bitter from being in part true," said the mock- 
ing voice of her mortal enemy. “How have I been 
deceived, Magdalen ! In place of reigning first in 
your love, as I thought, I am placed second in your 
hate. You are very ungrateful to one who stified 
the call of conscience and justice to save your white 
neck from the rude hands of " 

“Be silent !" she commanded. “I wish you were 
dead !" 

“The hangman. I know it; but I will not die, 
even for your sake, glorious one ! Do I look like a 
dying man ?" 

He drew up his commanding form proudly, as he 
stepped back a pace, that she might note the life 
that flashed from his black eyes and flushed his 
handsome face. He laid his hand upon his broad 
chest : — 

“ There is no consumption here, Magdalen, nor 
heart-disease here ! I shall live many years yet, if 
only to prevent your dying for lack of exciting sen- 
sations. I am your life, Magdalen 1" 

“ You are my hell !" 

“Shocking! That is a naughty word from a 
lady's lips." 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 215 

She was released from her tormentor by the ap- 
proach of her husband. 

‘‘ ‘ Out of the frying-pan into the fire,’ ” sneered 
Calvert, who could not resist the temptation of a 
parting shot. “I have always heard that love- 
matches were the most miserable. Your experience 
proves the truth of the assertion.” 

“Magdalen,” said Neville, harshly, “will you 
never leave this place ?” 

“ I am sure, Neville, that I should be delighted 
to leave immediately, Charlie, poor boy, is always 
so grieved to have me leave him, so glad at my 
return.” 

“Enjoy yourself: I shall be at your service two 
hours hence.” 

He was intoxicated to that degree to make him 
perverse and disagreeable. Indeed, he was generally 
in that state now^ and poor Magdalen was in con- 
stant fear of arousing his anger. She was beginning 
to feel the punishments Love had assured her would 
be meted out to her. 

For two hours and a half he kept her in those 
crowded rooms, merely because she had expressed 
a desire to return to her son. 

“ So, Lionel, you were compelled to fly from the 
‘Enchantress,’ lest she should cast the ‘gilded links’ 
of that ‘iron chain’ around you? Is it not so?” 


216 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


cried Love, as Lionel rejoined her after his inter- 
view with Magdalen. 

“You forget that I wear a charm that protects 
me from weird spells,” he answered, gayly, laying 
his hand on his heart. 

“ Talismans are sometimes lost or borne away in 
the beak of a bird, as is told in an Eastern story. 
Have a care lest a little bird rob you of yours, or, 
what is more probable, it he wiled from you by 
Magdalen’s eyes.” 

“Woman’s wiles!” he cried, gleefully. “But 
have your will. Magdalen is fascinating ; but she is 
not Love. 

“ * The nettle groweth higher 

Than the violet by its side !’ ” 

“Will you never forget that song?” exclaimed 
Love, laughing. 

Never!” ^ 

They were standing alone ; and Lionel told Love 
of his meeting with Magdalen, and related the con- 
versation that had passed between them. 

“ You were too severe, I think. She has sorrows 
now: do not add to them,” said Love, gently. “But 
it grows late. Shall we go ?” 

“At your pleasure.” 

“ Your pleasure is mine.” 

“We will go, then,” he said, with a mischievous 
smile. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


217 


“ I know what your thought is, sir ! You are 
thinking, if your pleasure is mine, I should have 
waited until you were disposed to give the signal of 
departure.*’ 

“You are not going. Miss Love ?” queried Willie 
Calvert, who had caught the last word. 

“We were on the point of leaving,” answered 
Lionel. 

“You must stay to sing one song. Miss Love. 
Only one: you will not refuse me?” he pleaded, as 
Love made a gesture of negation. 

“ Sing, Love,” said Lionel. “ is my pleasure T 

“ I must sing in order to sustain ray character for 
consistency, I suppose.” 

“And for the pleasure of your friends,” said 
Willie, as he offered his arm to conduct Love to the 
piano. 

“I sing for you. Will. What shall my song he ?” 

This speech savors of coquettishness; but Love 
meant none, and must stand acquitted of the charge. 
Willie knew who held her heart in keeping, and 
answered, playfully, — 

“ An old romance, an it please your highness.” 

“ The beaten track? — the castle and a cot, a noble 
lord and a lowly maid, a secret marriage and an 
early death ! Is that the old romance?” 

“ Precisely.” 

A hush fell upon the assemblage, as Love’s sweet 

19 


218 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


voice filled the room, which continued unbroken 
until the last note of the following song ceased its 
vibratipns : — ' - 

Music, laughter, light, and love. 

Fill’d castle court and castle grove, 

And ladies fair their sweet spells wove 
To win the Lord of Beverly. 

But all in vain was Beauty’s wile, 

And witching glance, and winning smile. 

The young Lord Euston to beguile 
From out his saddened reverie. 

At length the Lady Geraldine, 

With haughty step and careless mien. 

Pass’d through the hall like royal queen. 

And paused before Lord Beverly. 

“ My lord, I come from Maud of Clare, 

To ask thee why thou wilt not share 
With noble lord and lady fair 
‘ The mirth that reigns through Beverly.” 

“Oh, lady bright,” the young lord said. 

And bow’d with courtly grace his head, 

“ How can I smile when cold and dead 
Is lying Lady Beverly ?” 

. “ Now, good my lord, you mock at me,” 

The lady said, right haughtily ; 

For she who now approaches thee 
Is surely Lady Beverly.” 

A noble matron, proud' and high. 

Drew near, and, with a wondering eye. 

Gazed on him, seeking to espy 
- Why he sat there so listlessly, 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


219 


‘ My son,” said she, “ what cause hast thou 
. To make thee wear this clouded brow ? 

Or art thou bound by pious vow 

To turn thy heart from revelry?” 

“Oh, mother dear, and lady fair, 

I have a secret ye may share, — 

A secret that I little care 

To longer hide so jealously. 

“ Look ye on yonder cottage-light. 

That gleameth through the dark midnight ; 

Within that cot lies, still and white. 

My bride, young Lady Beverly.” 

He led them from the castle hall ; 

He led them ’neath the cottage-wall. 

He softly raised a funeral pall. 

And said, “’Tis Lady Beverly.” 

The maid was young, and passing fair, 

With roses in her soft brown hair : 

But ah ! her lovely features wear 

The calm of death’s dark mystery. 

He knelt beside the lowly bed : 

The ladies turn’d, with noiseless tread. 

And left him with his treasured dead ^ 

And his unweeping agony. 

Love was forced to break laughingly away from 
the shower of compliments that greeted her on the 
conclusion of her song. 

“ Willie,” she cried, imploringly, as “ Encore' ' flew 
from lip to lip, ‘‘ you teased me into this scrape, 
and you are in honor hound to protect me from the 
consequences of my folly.” 


220 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“Will you not favor us with a second song, 
mademoiselle ?” asked a handsome foreigner, with 
the “ air distingu^” as he made his way to her side. 

“ I must refuse, even at the risk of appearing un- 
amiahle. I plead, in extenuation of my refusal, the 
lateness of the hour. You will excuse me, sir?” 

“I dare not insist, mademoiselle,” answered the 
polite Frenchman. 

“ Thank you ; and good-night.” 

“ Good-night, mademoiselle.” 

He gazed upon her retreating figure admiringly, 
but when she was joined by Lionel he turned away 
with a sigh. He had that moruing learned beyond 
a doubt that the handsome young naval ofiacer was 
the affianced of the charming improvvisatrice. Poor 
fellow! it was long ere he forgot the beautiful 
American girl. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


221 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Thy smile shall fill thy husband’s home 
With sunlike rays, 

And on that virgin brow shall light 
The matron’s grace. 

New England Magazine, Vol. II. 

Never forget the hour of our first meeting. 

When, ’mid the sounds of revelry and song, 

Only thy soul could know that mine was greeting 
Its idol, wish’d for, waited for, so long : 

Never forget. — Mrs. Embury. 

On the evening appointed for the marriage of 
Lionel and Love, Jack and Agnes O’Xiel sat in the 
parlor waiting for their sister Mary, a blooming 
lassie of sweet sixteen,” who must be pardoned 
for lingering before her toilette-glass a long half-hour 
after Agnes had pronounced her to be in readiness. 
This was to be her first appearance in society; and, 
besides, she was to enact the important rSle of first 
bridesmaid to Love, — weighty reason that she 
should feel a little anxiety to appear well, and 
ample apology for her dilatoriness. When she 
glanced at her watch and discovered how late it was, 
a guilty feeling came over her, and she sprang down 


222 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTKESS. 

the stairs at a rate that threatened a total demolish- 
ment of the weblike over-dress should it chance to 
come in contact with one of the many projecting 
tacks or splints caused by the busy hammer or knife 
of mischievous boyhood. The precipitate descent 
was accomplished in safety; but, as she flashed 
through the doorway, her flowing sleeve of delicate 
lace caught on the knob of the door, and 

“There’s another half-hour’s delay,” said Agnes, 
quietly reaching for her work-basket, and proceed- 
ing to thread her needle for the purpose of mending 
the ugly rent caused by Mary’s heedlessness. 

Mary screamed, and Jack exclaimed, impa- 
tiently, — 

“ If any thing makes me feel like swearing, it is 
to be kept waiting by a woman !” 

“ Yet when Lizzie Elliston once kept you wait- 
ing an hour, and you were prevented from fulfilling 
an engagement in consequence, you smilingly an- 
swered to her excuses that you would willingly wait 
a year, if at the expiration of that period you 
should be rewarded for your patience by being per- 
mitted to gaze, if for only an instant, upon her tran- 
scendent loveliness ! His very language, Ag, for 
Lizzie told me about it. It took me a full hour to 
recover from my astonishment, for I had pleasant 
memories of the sound beratings I received from 
patient, amiable Master Jack if poor little I hap- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


223 


pened to be a minute after time. Did you make 
such a nonsensical speech to Lizzie, Jack? I in- 
tended to ask you long ago, but her words escaped 
my memory, and were only recalled by your im- 
patient exclamation.” 

“Don’t listen to Lizzie Elliston’s nonsense, 
Molly, or, if politeness commands your attention, 
forget her words as they leave her lips. However, 
as she is married now, it is to be supposed that she 
will be more sensible. I hope so.” 

“You have not answered me.” 

“Neither shall 1.” 

Thus silenced, Mary held her peace for an instant, 
but soon commenced again, directing her remarks 
to Agnes. 

“ For pity’s sake, Ag, leave off your dismal attire 
on the night of Love’s wedding, and perhaps among 
the gay gallants you will meet one who can fill the 
place in your heart left vacant by the death of Cla- 
rence.” 

Mary regretted her words as soon as they were 
spoken, and would have given much had they never 
passed her lips. Agnes grew faint at her sister’s 
thoughtless speech ; but, ere she could reply. 
Jack’s stern voice sounded on Mary’s ear in severe 
rebuke : — 

“ Child, are you utterly heartless ? If you are 
light and frivolous, try to have sufficient feeling to 


224 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


appreciate the thoroughly womanly nature of Ag- 
nes ” 

“ Hush, Jack. She is not heartless, only heed- 
less,” interrupted Agnes. Then, turning to Mary, 
she said, gently, “ Wait until you have suffered like 
me, — pray Heaven you never may! — and you will 
appreciate as I do these sweet lines : — 

“ ‘Nor would I change my buried love 
For any heart of living mould. 

No I for I am a hero’s child. 

I’ll hunt my quarry in the wild 
And still my home this mansion make 
Of all unheeded and unheeding, 

And cherish, for my warrior’s sake, 

The flower of Love lies bleeding.^ ” 

“It’s all very well, when one’s young and pretty, 
to cherish such sentiments ; but wait until one gets 
to be an old maid,” cried the incorrigible Mary. 
“‘Love beyond the tomb!’ Stuff! Honsense ! 
There’s Lizzie Elliston buried three lovers in as 
many years, and married a fourth ere the grass had 
grown on her third lover’s grave. Ho ‘ sickly sen- 
timentality’ there !” 

“ Molly, is that really the truth ?” 

“ It is a singular fact, but it is a fact, that she was 
engaged to three gentlemen, who died a few weeks 
previous to their intended bridal days.” 

“ Thank kind Heaven that I was not the fortu- 
nate fourth !” exclaimed Jack. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 225 

‘‘You made a narrow escape, if the world speak 
truly, Master Jack,” laughed Mary. 

“ Hold your tongue, Miss Malapert ! Who said 
that I made a narrow escape ?” 

Ho answer from the saucy maiden. 

“ Why do you not reply when I bid you ?” 

“You bade me hold my tongue.” 

“Well, now I bid you speak.” 

“ ‘You’d scarce expect one of my age,’ ” she com- 
menced, mockingly. 

“ Cease your trifling, and tell me who said I came 
near being Lizzie Elliston’s fourth, and accepted, 
lover?” 

“ Why, she told me herself. Who else, pray?” 

“She’s a confounded fool!” burst forth Jack. 

“Merely because I ” He paused, flushed, bit 

his lip, and remained silent. 

“ Merely because you were jilted by dear, darling 
Love Eiehraond, for dearer, darlinger Lionel Percy, 
you must make a mighty parade of falling in love 
with Lizzie Elliston, for the purpose of appearing 
‘Jack indifferent’ about Love’s marriage. And, 
because Lizzie thought you in earnest, and laughed 
at your folly in falling in love with an ‘ engaged 
young lady,’ she is a ‘confounded fool.’ But, be- 
tween you, I, and the gate-post, (meaning Ag,) you 
were the ‘confounded fool;’ for, instead of being 
jilted by Love alone, you enjoy the enviable reputa- 


226 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


tion among the girls of being the discarded of both 
Love and Lizzie. Jack O’Kiel, you may just ‘hang 
your harp on the willow-tree;’ for no girl in this 
glorious galaxy of States will listen to the love- 
songs of a twice-rejected, if she know it !” 

“Yet many of them marry a thrice-rejected.” 

“Kot if they know it.” 

“ You and your equally shrewd companions know 
a great deal concerning others’ affairs, I doubt not; 
but you don’t know every thing. I was not rejected 
by Miss Richmond nor Miss Elliston. I never had 
the audacity to address the first nor the desire to 
address the last named.” 

“We are prepared to hear such a declaration from 
your lips. Of course you would be the last to ac- 
knowledge the mortifying fact. Take the advice 
of one who, though young in years, is old in expe- 
rience, and never be mad enough to tell the lady of 
your heart’s adoration that she is your first and only 
love, or she will straightway jump at the conclusion 
that she is your fiftieth, and instantly reject you.” 

“ Come, Rattle,” said Jack, who was not in the 
least anxious to provoke her tongue further, “ the 
carriage has been in waiting an hour, and you 
should have been in attendance on the bride long 
since.” 

“Please, Agnes,” coaxed Mary, “take off* that 
hateful black dress and consent to be Love’s brides- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 227 

maid. Althougli it will be a sore trial to resign my 
post, I will make the sacrifice, and Love will be 
delighted with the change.’* 

Agnes shook her head in a decided negative, and 
led the way to the carriage. 

“Love,” whispered Lionel, bending over her, 
“ why do you look so sad on this our marriage-eve ? 
Do you fear to trust your future happiness to my 
guardianship ?” 

“I do not doubt you, Lionel. My love and con- 
fidence remain full and entire. You mistake me : 
I am not exactly sad, — only thoughtful.” 

“Yet there are tears in the eyes that were never 
known to weep. I can guess the cause of your 
thoughtfulness. There are mournful memories in 
your heart of the absent friends who should rejoice 
with us in our happiness?” 

“ Of Grace, and Kate, and Clarence. Yes.” 

They passed down the stairs into the parlor where 
the ceremony was to be performed. 

“ How can she so soon forget him ?” murmured 
Agnes, as she looked upon the happy face of Love, 
from whence the temporary shadow had fied. “ But 
I am unjust in forgetting that Lionel holds the place 
in her heart that Clarence held in mine.” 

As she passed through the crowded room to greet 
the bride with kiss and congratulation, she was the 
object of various remarks. 


228 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“So Agnes O’^STeil still wears her black robes,” 
said Mrs. Ford, whilom Lizzie Elliston ; “ but her 
romantic folly will not last forever.” 

“You have no patience with the romantic folly 
of your sisters, Mrs. Ford,” observed Henry Calvert. 

“Hot I,” answered the lady, with a laugh. “And 
Agnes O’Heil will smile that she was so foolish as 
to wear mourning for Clarence Richmond at some 
future time.” 

Mrs. Ford could form no conception of the pure 
and beautiful love that filled the heart of quiet 
Agnes O’Heil. 

Mary was admired, petted, and caressed to her 
heart’s content. She was chatting gayly with Willie 
Calvert in the latter part of the evening, when they 
were suddenly confronted by Henry Calvert, with 
whom Mary was unacquainted. 

“Miss O’Heil, allow me to present my brother.” 

Mary glanced shyly upward at the dark, hand- 
some man, wondering what had caused him to seek 
an introduction to a giddy young creature like her. 

“You make me feel like an intruder,” he said. 
“Am I unwelcome ?” 

“ Oh, no,” she answered, extending both hands with 
a pretty childlike grace: “you are very welcome.” 

. “ Thank you a thousand times.” 

He placed her hand within his arm, and led her 
away for a promenade in the conservatory, gayly 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 229 

commending Will to the pleasures of his own 
thoughts or of the dance. 

“I am a younger brother, and must submit to 
being pushed aside by you,'* responded Willie, 
laughingly. 

During the evening, Mary’s eyes had been at- 
tracted more than once to the window near which 
Henry Calvert was standing, seeming to prefer his 
own thoughts to joining any of the gay groups of 
brilliant ladies and gallant gentlemen that circled 
round him. She was startled, yet at the same time 
pleased, that he should pass by acknowledged belles 
and devote himself to her. She was somewhat 
awed, too, by the difference in their ages. He 
noticed this, and unbent from his usual haughty 
bearing, and became almost a boy again. He spoke 
on such subjects as are peculiarly calculated to 
please a young maiden, — of flowers, of music, and, 
as a matter of course, of love. 

“ You will scarcely believe me. Miss O’Heil, when 
I tell you that I have reached the venerable age of 
thirty years with heart unwounded by the blind 
god’s shafts.’' 

“ I cannot disbelieve if you make such an asser- 
tion,” she answered, with a light laugh. “You 
speak in jest.” 

“And yet 1 am not jesting,” he said, more 
seriously. 

20 


230 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

‘‘Ah! but I have heard that you were in love — 
nay, engaged to the ‘Enchantress’ — some years 
since ?” 

“I^ever in love, — never engaged,” he answered, 
eagerly. “ But I will frankly confess that, when I 
was a simple boy of twenty, I foolishly proposed 
for her hand, and was laughed at for my pains by 
a supercilious miss of fifteen. You will believe 
me?” 

He bent his eyes upon her with an expression in 
their depths that caused the delicate rose-bloom of 
her cheek to deepen to a vivid crimson. 

“Be careful, sir,” she said, quickly, assuming an 
air of offended dignity. “I am still classed with 
the ‘supercilious’ misses, being not quite seven- 
teen.” 

“ I crave pardon, madame la princesse ! I spoke 
of one of the lesser lights of the lustrous con- 
stellation wherein you shine the bright particular 
star.” 

A quadrille was forming, and they joined the 
dancers. 

“Heavens! Henry Calvert dancing!” whis- 
pered Mrs. Ford to Miss Linton, a lady standing 
near. “ It was but yesterday evening that I heard 
him pronounce dancing a bore. I requested him 
to tread a measure with Kate; but he coolly de- 
clined, under the plea that he never danced. He 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


231 


moves through the figure with unequalled grace 
and in perfect time. I shall take the young gentle- 
man to task for refusing to dance with Kate.” 

“I don’t blame him,” observed Miss Linton’s 
partner. “Kate Elliston dances shockingly.” 

“You forget that Kate, poor girl! is slightly 
lame,” said Miss Linton. 

The young gentleman colored under her re- 
proachful glance, and answered, — 

“ I am sorry I spoke so hastily. I don’t particu- 
larly dislike to dance with Kate; but I prefer to 
select my partners without Mrs. Ford’s inter- 
ference.” 

“Prove your penitence by dancing the next 
quadrille with Kate. Will you not ?” 

“Certainly, if you desire it.” 

“ Thank you.” 

Mary rode homeward in silence, much to Jack’s 
astonishment. Leaning toward her, he exclaimed, — 

“Why, Molly, where’s your tongue?” 

“Let me alone. I’m sleepy,” was the pettish 
answer. 

The little story-teller I She was wide awake, but 
dreaming sweet dreams of Henry Calvert. His low 
voice and dark eyes haunted her through that night 
and many succeeding ones. 

“ Will, have you any particular regard for Miss 
O’Keil?” asked Henry, as he and his brother sat 


232 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


alone in their room after their return from Love’s 
wedding. 

Willie was astonished by the abrupt question. 

“For Molly? FTo.” 

“I am glad to hear it. Is there any lady who 
will have the right to be jealous of any attentions 
you may think proper to bestow upon Miss 
O’Neil?” 

“ What are you driving at, Hal ? No.” 

“ Good ! Now to the point. I wish you to 
guard her for me until I can with propriety demand 
her from her friends.” 

“You are mad! You never knew her before 
to-night.” 

“True. Further, I never loved her before to- 
night.” 

“And the lady? The disparity of your ages? 
You are confident !” 

“ She does not hate me. And, if I win her love, 
what signifies the difference of age?” 

“Nothing! Command my services in your be- 
half.” 

“Devote yourself to the lady, but have a care 
that you do not steal the gem intrusted to your 
keeping,” said Henry, smiling. 

“Do not fear. My Loue-star set to-night.” 

“ A man who can pun on his mistress’s name on 
the night of her wedding is not to be trusted.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 233 

“Be at rest. Another than laughter-loving Molly 
O’J^eil will be my second love, — some sad-eyed 
lady who smileth not.” 

“ I consign my treasure to your keeping. Guard 
it well. And now to your dreams of the ‘ sad-eyed 
lady who smileth not.’ ” 

Willie soon slumbered : not so Henry. 

“How I have wasted my life !” he mused. “What 
would I not give to feel myself worthy this sweet 
child-woman who is destined to make me a better 
and more useful man ! I have an incentive to work 
now, and work I will. I will commence my new 
life by discarding my old associates, — gentlemen- 
gamblers, for the greater part, — and be in reality, 
as in name, a lawyer, pay my debts of honor and 
of honesty, gain a name and an independence, and 
then ask for Mary. Once again I am a man ! 
Thank God !” 

He rose from his chair with kindling eyes, and 
walked slowly back and forth through the narrow 
limits of his room, with a firm step and proud port. 

When he had once determined the course he 
would pursue, there was little doubt but he would 
go bravely and energetically to work. A few hours 
had wrought a wondrous change in the man who 
had shown himself almost demoniacal. 


20 * 


234 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not 
elsewhere ; 

For, when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines 
the pathway. 

Many things are made clear that else lie hidden in darkness. 

Longfellow. 

“ Sister Aggie, did Molly ketch a beau ?” asked 
an inquisitive younger brother, as the family sat at 
the breakfast-table on the morning following the 
bridal party. 

“I don’t know. Oily. Ask her.” 

“ Did you, Molly ?” 

“Why, of course she did,” spoke up a second 
juvenile busybody. “Her red face tells the tale. 
Goody!” 

“Don’t triumph in your sister’s conquests too 
soon. Master Richard,” said Molly. “I didn’t 
‘ ketch a beau.’ ” 

“Well, if you didn’t, you had ought to,” said 
Oily, in a disappointed tone. “You looked so 
pretty 1” 

“ You a’n’t up to the signs of the time, 01,” said 
wise Richard, leaning back in his chair, and fixing 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 235 

a penetrating glance upon Molly. ‘‘When a girl 
blushes like Molly did, you may know she has a 
beau, — especially if she denies it. I am not so 
green as to take her word. I know she has a 
beau, and I’ll find out who it is: Willie Calvert, 
may-be !” 

Mary’s face fiushed crimson, but she gave a sigh 
of relief as the young inquisitor turned to his break- 
fast with a satisfied 

“ That's him !” 

Agnes glanced at Molly inquiringly; but that 
young lady was deeply engaged in a whispered con- 
versation with Oily. 

“ I am glad it is Willie,” said Agnes, mentally. 
“ I feared that it might be Henry.” 

The brothers visited Mr. O’Hiel’s house fre- 
quently, and Agnes was soon confirmed in her im- 
pression that her sister preferred Willie. Molly 
and Willie lingered at the piano, singing duets; 
Henry and Agnes pondered, hour after hour, over 
the chess-board. Sometimes Molly would leave the 
instrument, and, leaning on Agnes’s chair, watch 
the progress of the game. Immediately on the 
appearance of Molly’s bright face beside her sis- 
ter’s, Henry would grow restless, make rash moves, 
and finally acknowledge himself shamefully beaten 
and declare his intention of renewing the battle at 
some future time. Agnes was not blind to these 


236 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

manifestations of emotion on the part of Henry, and 
became convinced that he loved Mary deeply. 

‘‘Poor fellow!” she thought, “I pity him. It is 
no light thing for a man like him to be disappointed 
in love. He was never a favorite of mine ; but I am 
beginning to have a sincere admiration and high 
regard for one who will make no attempt to enter 
the lists as a rival to his brother, to win the woman 
he loves. Poor fellow !” 

One evening nearly three months after the events 
just related, a servant entered the sitting-room 
where the family were assembled, and, simply saying 
that Mr. Calvert wished to see the ladies, retired. 
Agnes, thinking it was Willie, as Henry never came 
alone, sent Mary to the parlor with an excuse for her 
non-appearance ; Mary ran lightly down-stairs, warb- 
ling a popular song. But she stopped in blushing 
embarrassment as she perceived that it was Henry 
and not Willie who stepped across the room to 
meet her. 

“I thought I should see Willie,” she stam- 
mered. 

“And are disappointed by seeing Willie’s bro- 
ther?” 

“You are very welcome.” 

“ Why do you not place your hands in mine as 
you did on another occasion when you made use of 
those words ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 237 

She held forth her little hands, and his large 
though scarce less white ones closed over them. 

“Welcome me with glance as well as with word. 
That will do,” he continued, as she lifted her eyes 
and looked into his, her cheeks growing rosier each 
second. “ I have a secret to tell you. Ah ! you 
guess it !” he cried, as her lashes fell quickly over 
the brown eyes. “You guess how dearly I love 
you, Mary. Wait ! Do not speak yet ! I must tell 
you what I have been, and what I will be ere I ask 
for your love in return. I have been — I blush to say 
it to 2/o^^, Mary — both gambler and fortune-hunter. 
Your love can make me a high-toned, honorable 
man. But do not let your generous heart incline 
you to accept for the purpose of saving me. Let 
your answer be what it will, my reformation is com- 
plete. One moment ! I am much older than you, 
Mary, and am most unworthy ; but I love you. Yow 
you may speak.” 

She looked smilingly into his face, murmuring, — 

“ Behold me ! lam worthy 

Of thy loving, for I love thee ! I am worthy as a king ! 

“ Thank you, dearest, for the confidence you 
repose in me. If I am worthy in your eyes, I will 
make myself worthy in the eyes of the world, for 
your sake,” he said, leading her to a sofa and seat- 
ing himself beside her. “The voice of popular 


238 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

rumor pronounces you engaged to Will. Permit 
the gossips to remain under the delusion until you 
and I think proper to undeceive them.” 

“ I will be guided by you in this as in all things 
else,” she answered. 

He commenced in detail an account of his sins 
toward Magdalen ; hut Mary placed her hand over 
his lips and declared herself willing to absolve him 
unconfessed. 

On the morning following his engagement with 
Mary O’Hiel, he called to see Magdalen. He arose 
upon her entrance and greeted her with a respectful 
courtesy in striking contrast with his olden air of 
insolent familiarity. She wondered at his changed 
manner, and waited for him to state the object of 
his visit. 

“Mrs. Heath, I come to implore your forgiveness 
for the cruel and unmanly course pursued by me 
toward you, and to assure you that you are fully 
exonerated by the Richmonds from conspiring 
against the life of the former wife of your husband. 
They are willing to forget the past, and are most 
anxious for the re-establishment of kindly feeling 
with you. I shall, as soon as possible, place in your 
hands the amount of money extorted from you ; 
and I beg, if I can be of service to you at any time, 
that you will command me.” 

“ Whence this sudden change in manner and Ian- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


239 


guage, Mr. Calvert ? Or do you but mock me by 
pretending to wish me well ?” 

He told her in a few words of his love for and 
engagement with Mary O’Hiel. 

‘‘ The engagement,” he concluded, “ is a secret 
between the lady, my brother, and myself. It is 
necessary that the knowledge should be withheld 
from her family until I establish my character as a 
man of steady business-habits and as a gentleman : 
therefore Willie will play the lover in my stead. 
Should Jack O’Hiel suspect that I am his sister’s 
betrothed, he would have but to inform his father 
that I bear the reputation of being a gambler, and 
Mr. O’Hiel would immediately forbid me the plea- 
sure of seeing his daughter.” 

This confidence was as it were involuntary, and 
there was a glitter in Magdalen’s eyes which caused 
him to regret having spoken so freely; and her 
expressions of friendly interest in his happiness did 
not tend to reassure him. 

“I acted very foolishly in confiding in Magdalen,” 
mused Henry, as he left her. “ She is not to be 
trusted. I must see Mr. O’Niel before her ladyship 
can do so, and let him hear the story from my lips, 
acquaint him with my plans for the future, and ask 
his permission to address his daughter. I should 
have pursued this course in the outset. If he refuse 
his sanction to the engagement, I must e’en wait 


240 ‘ MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

until Mary is free to act independently of his 
will.” 

‘‘ Calvert is a fool,” muttered Magdalen when 
left alone. “ What could have prompted him to tell 
me his secret? I shall apply the torture now, and 
punish him for all the shame and agony he has 
caused me to sufler. I wish the lady were another 
than Mary O’Mel, for her father and sister have 
always treated me kindly, though Agnes had ample 
cause to hate me. But shall I hesitate to injure my 
bitterest enemy when he is in my power? Mver! 
never! Ere to-morrow’s sun has set, Mr. O’Mel 
shall know this love-secret. It is generally conceded 
that a woman cannot bridle her tongue ; but I would 
rather risk a secret with three women than one man : 
if the ladies find it impossible to keep their own 
counsel, they at least exercise some discretion in the 
selection of their confidants.” 

There was a heavy fall in the hall, and a wild 
scream in a child’s voice. Magdalen sprang through 
the parlor-doorway to behold her little son lying 
bruised and bleeding on the fioor, while her hus- 
band stood midway on the steps with a pearl-handled 
penknife in his hand. 

“How did he fall, Heville?” cried Magdalen, as 
she vainly endeavored to hush the screaming 
child. 

“Keep the young gentleman from destroying 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


241 


property, or he will suffer a severer punishment 
next time,” was all the answer he deigned to 
make. 

Little Charlie had been presented, by Lionel 
Percy, with the beautiful knife his stepfather held 
in his hand. As soon as he received it, he seated 
himself on the steps and proceeded to whittle 
away at the balusters, and accomplished consider- 
able mischief in a very short time with the keen 
blade. While busily engaged in the to him plea- 
sant employment, he was caught from his seat, 
dispossessed of the knife, and thrown down the 
stairway. J^eville had always cherished a dislike 
for the child ; but this was the first time he had given 
vent to the feeling by personal violence. The little 
fellow bore the marks of the cruel treatment re- 
ceived on this occasion for weeks. 

On the following afternoon Magdalen called to 
see Agnes, and, after chatting for a half-hour, in- 
quired for her father. 

“At your service. Mistress Heath,” exclaimed 
Mr. O’Mel, as he entered her presence. 

“ You are prompt in responding to my desire to 
see you, sir ; and I will not detain you, but put you 
in immediate possession of facts that you should 
know. Henry Calvert called upon me yesterday 
and boasted that he, who is known to be an unprin- 
cipled gambler, had won Molly’s consent to marry 
Q 21 


242 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

him and at the same time feign to be engaged 
to his brother Willie, lest Jack, who knows his 
character, should reveal the knowledge to and 
join you in taking measures to prevent the mar- 
riage.’* 

“Is that all?” inquired Mr. O’Kiel, coolly, as 
Magdalen paused. 

“ All ? Is it not enough ?” 

“ Truly, it is bad enough. But did he say nothing 
further?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“The scoundrel! Why, he told me what pur- 
ported to be the whole story yesterday. But his 
statement does not exactly tally with yours, my dear 
madam. He said to me that he had confided the 
important fact of his clandestine engagement to you ; 
but he said, also, that he had given you a good and 
sufficient reason why he wished me to remain in 
ignorance. In a word, that he dared not ask of me 
my dear little Molly until he should prove himself 
worthy. He went further, and confessed that he 
was driven to admit me into his confidence from 
fear that you might think it your duty to do so. 
He wound up by asking my sanction to the engage- 
ment, and informed me if I refused it that his only 
alternative was to wait until Molly attained her 
majority, when she could choose between us. I was 
pleased with the frankness and impudence of the 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


243 


fellow, and gave my consent, on condition that he 
would wait three or four years for her. Magdalen, 
my child,” he continued, changing his light tone, 
to one of earnest gravity, “ cease your meddling 
with other people’s love-affairs, and you will be 
far happier. It is your failing, Magdalen : correct 
it.” 

“ K you knew what he has caused me to suffer, 
you would not blame me for wishing to see him 
miserable,” cried Magdalen, bursting into tears of 
mortification and anger. 

“ I do know it, and he has made you all the repa- 
ration in his power. He has humbled himself as 
few men would.” 

“ The whole world is leagued against me !” she 
sobbed. “ Every one hates me.” 

“ Who is to blame, Magdalen ? Have you not 
declared your hatred for the world ? Have you not 
caused individuals much wretchedness ? Believe 
me, my child, the world is not a bad world ; and it 
is your own fault if you find in it enemies in place 
of friends.” 

Magdalen made no reply, but, with her face con- 
cealed in her handkerchief, continued to sob like a 
grieved child. 

The kind old gentleman began to grow fidgetty. 

When Magdalen had wept herself calm and raised 


244 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

her head, Agnes sat beside her, but Mr. O’Niel was 
gone. 

There was a sound of little pattering feet without ; 
and in a moment little Charlie Clinton ran into the 
room, closely followed by his nurse. 

“ Papa was coming, and Charlie was afraid and 
ran away,” said the child, in his baby lisp. 

“In pity, Magdalen, what is the matter with 
Charlie ?” exclaimed Agnes, as her glance fell on 
his disfigured face. “ His face is scarcely recog- 
nisable, and one poor little arm is in a sling !” 

“He fell down-stairs yesterday,” answered his 
mother, much embarrassed. 

“Haughty mamma, to tell a fib!” cried the child, 
shaking his fihger at her with an expression of 
grave rebuke, that satjoddly on his distorted fea- 
tures. 

“Haughty Charlie, to say that mamma tells fibs,” 
exclaimed Agnes, lifting the child to her lap. 

“But it is a fib, Cousin Aggie,” persisted the 
child. “Charlie didn’t fall. His ugly old papa 
threw him down-stairs.” 

“ Eun to Molly, pet, and tell her to give Charlie 
a cake,” said Agnes, anxious, for Magdalen’s 
sake, to stop the little tongue that would tell the 
truth. 

“ Heville was standing on the steps when Charlie 
fell,” explained Magdalen, “and the poor little 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 245 

thing declares that he did not fall accidentally, and 
it is impossible to convince him to the contrary. 
You do not imagine that Seville could be so 
cruel ?” 

A reply was prevented by the entrance of Molly 
and Charlie, and, as it was growing late, the visitors 
turned their steps homeward. 

When Molly was informed of the object of Mag- 
dalen’s visit, her laughing eyes flashed with indig- 
nation, as she exclaimed, — 

“Gambler, indeed! Gambler! People who live 
in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones at people 
who don’t. If Henry honestly confesses his faults 
and determines to amend them, he should be 
honored instead of slandered by Magdalen Heath ! 
Hatefulness 1” 

A beautiful boquet was tossed over her head and 
fell at her feet. She started and turned, to behold 
him of whom she was speaking, standing in the 
doorway. 

“ Henry is willing — nay, glad — to be slandered,” he 
cried, laughingly, “ if he is always defended with so 
much spirit by so charming an advocate. It wasn’t 
exactly slander after all, though.” 

“But something quite as bad,— the truth,” said 
Agnes, smiling. 

“You are all combined, — ^you among the rest, 
21 * 


246 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

sir, — to make me believe Henry a villain ; but you 
will not succeed.” 

“^Wbat provoked the outburst of eloquence I 
accidentally overheard ? Has Magdalen paid you a 
friendly visit since yesterday?” 

‘‘ Yes. But what impelled you to reveal a secret 
to Magdalen ?” cried both girls, in a breath. 

“My guardian angel, I am now convinced,” he 
answered, assisting Agnes to arrange the chessmen 
on the board, “ although I could have sworn at the 
time that it was my attendant imp. As soon as the 
words that placed me in her power were spoken, I 
began to reflect, and immediately arrived at the con- 
clusion that it would have been far more honorable 
to have sought Mr. O’Niel in the first instance and 
asked for Mary, instead of leading her to assist me 
in deceiving so kind a father as hers has proven 
himself to be 

“I do not blame you, sir; I do not blame you,” 
interrupted Mr. O’Hiel, who had entered at the 
moment. “ It was natural under the circumstances, — 
perfectly natural! If simple Molly has the bad 
taste to prefer you to my favorite Will, she must be 
prepared to regret her choice, that’s all. If my 
daughters walk through the world with a love- 
sorrow in their hearts,” he continued, in a changed 
tone, laying his hand caressingly on Agnes’s head, 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


247 


“ I can say with truth — thank God ! — that I was not 
to blame.” 

Agnes leaned her face against her father’s 
shoulder for a single instant, and then turned and 
seated herself at the chess-board. 

“Come,” she said to Henry; “if we wish to con- 
clude a game before tea, we must commence.” 


248 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXXn. 

Though she has done me evil, I forgive ; 

For hearts that love their God and keep his word 
Breathe that deep harmony — forgiveness — out 
To those who blow them ill, as harps return. 

In music sweet, the smiting of the wind. — G. A. Parker. 

Four years have flown, — ^happily to some, wearily 
to others, rapidly to all. 

Molly O’Hiel, who has been for six months the 
happy wife of Henry Calvert, tries to be sober and 
matronly ; but she will forget herself at times and 
run into the parlor to receive visitors. 

Her husband, with the several advantages of a 
superior mind and flnished education, added to a 
determined purpose of succeeding, had advanced 
rapidly to the front ranks of his profession. 

One evening it rained heavily, and Molly stood at 
the window waiting impatiently for the return of 
her husband. “Poor Hal! dear Hall” she mur- 
mured, softly, as she looked upon the almost de- 
serted streets ; “ why can’t it stop raining until he 
comes home? Ah, here he is.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 249 

She ran to meet him, and placed her hands in 
his, — a form of welcome he loved so well. 

“You have not learned how to be dignified yet, 
Molly,” he said, smiling. 

“ I^’ot yet, not yet ! But be patient, and I will be 
in time as stately as Magdalen.” 

“ Poor Magdalen !” 

“ What new sorrow has fallen upon her ?” 

“ She came to me an hour since and placed five 
hundred dollars in my care, begging me to remit it 
to the treasurer of the Georgetown College, whither 
she had been compelled to send Charlie six months 
since in order to protect him from her husband’s 
drunken violence. It seems of the hundred thou- 
sand dollars of which Magdalen came into posses- 
sion at Captain Clinton’s death but this paltry sum 
remains to educate and maintain his son. ‘We are 
beggars,’ she said, sadly, ‘ and when two years have 
passed my child will share our beggary. Love 
Percy once said to me that there would be a time 
when I would pray for death or madness ; and that 
time has come.’ Poor Magdalen !” 

“ Poor Magdalen !” repeated Mary, pityingly. 
“ What a misfortune that she married Neville 
Heath!” 

******** 

The same evening Magdalen, sitting alone in her 
room, was startled by the sudden entrance of her 


250 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


husband, who approached and raised her beautiful 
hand to his lips. 

She lifted her magnificent eyes in haughty sur- 
prise at this unexpected and delicate caress. 

“ I come to ask a favor of you, Magdalen,” he 
said, retaining her hand. 

‘‘ Thank God, it is not in my power to grant it,” 
she murmured, inwardly. “If it were, I could not 
refuse. Although I am too proud to seem other 
than coldly indifferent, I still love you wildly as 
ever !” 

This was the passionate exclamation of her heart ; 
but her lips uttered, coldly, — 

“A favor? Any thing that I can do to serve 
you I will do willingly.” 

“You have five hundred dollars in your pos- 
session.” 

“Well?” 

“ I owe that amount to a gentleman, and it must 
be paid to-night. You will see the propriety of my 
remark when I inform you that it is a debt of 
honor.” 

“I too have a debt of honor to discharge, 
Neville.” 

“You?” 

“Yes, I. At least the half of his father’s for- 
tune should have been expended for and by 
Charlie.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 251 

“Silence! None of your cursed nonsense to 
me 1” he thundered. “ Give me the money!” 

“I will not !” 

Her outraged womanly spirit flashed through her 
eyes. 

“ I will not. I would not if I could. The money 
has been transmitted to the college wherein my son 
is resident as a pupil.” 

He started back with an oath. 

“Magdalen, you suspected me of having dis- 
covered this hidden treasure, and anticipated the 
yearly payments to the college for the purpose of 
foiling me; but, madam, you shall not.” 

She regarded him with a scornful smile curling 
her lips. 

“I must and will have five hundred dollars to- 
night. I paid six hundred for that ring,” pointing 
to the third finger of her left hand. “ I doubt not 
my creditor will accept it and cancel the debt. 
Give it to me. I would to God I had never placed 
it there !” 

She grew deadly pale as she slowly answered, — 

“ I would to God you never had !” 

She would have fallen had she not grasped the 
table for support. Recovering herself, she mur- 
mured, with a world of anguish in the low tones, — 

“Neville, low as you have fallen, I never dreamed 


252 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

that you could utterly forget every manly feeling 
and demand your wife’s wedding-ring and with it 
pay a gaming-debt.” 

She unfastened the pin which confined her collar 
and gave it to him. 

“ This is of far greater value ; but take it and 
leave me the ring,” she said, and passed imme- 
diately from the room. 

“Mamma,” said Charlie, a few days after, “I 
wish you would get me a pony.” 

“I can’t, my child,” she answered, with a heart- 
pang that she must again deny him a childish 
pleasure. “I am too poor to make expensive 
presents.” 

“Oh, I don’t ask it as a present: I only want 
you to take some of the money my good papa gave 
me and buy it.” 

“Who told you, child, that your papa left you 
money?” questioned Magdalen, in astonishment. 

“Kever mind!” he cried, gleefully. “I do know 
it, stingy mamma. But give me the pony and you 
may have all the rest. A minute ago you were 
poor and I was rich ; now I am poor and you are 
rich. I may have the dear little pony?” 

Magdalen passed her arm around him and drew 
him to her bosom. 

“ My son, we are both poor, and, worse still, de- 
pendent on your father for support.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


253 


The child looked incredulous. 

“ Why, where is all the money Dick O’Mel told 
me about ? He said that I would have ‘ whole 
heaps’ when I was a man.” 

.“You should have had, poor boy ; but your papa 
has spent it.” 

“ Oh, well, don’t cry about it, mamma,” he said, 
kissing her. “ I remember now that Dick told me 
that his brother Jack said papa had gambled away 
his fortune long ago, and it would be a miracle if 
mine did not travel the same road. Then he asked 
me if I didn’t hate the drunken brute. I didn’t 
care much myself about his calling papa a drunken 
brute, because he really is, you know, mamma. 
But, little as I am, I rather thought it was an insult 
to you : so I told Master Dick that I would thrash 
him if he didn’t instantly apologize.” 

Magdalen could not help smiling at the warlike 
tone of Charlie. He observed the smile, and said, 
quickly,— 

“I know, mamma, that he is twice as old and 
twice as big as me ; but I had the right on my side, 
and I am certain I could have thrashed him. I 
guess he was, too; for, when the boys began to 
laugh and cry, ‘Pitch in, little bombast!’ he 
swung me upon his shoulder and silenced them by 


254 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


“ He is right, gentlemen, and I beg his pardon ; 
I was a coward, and he is a hero.” 

“You say that he swung you upon his shoulder,” 
said Magdalen, smiling again. 

The boy’s brow reddened; but he answered, 
stoutly, — 

“I am small but spunky, mamma.” 

“ Don’t be that detestable thing, a bully, 
Charlie.” 

“ A bully, mamma, is another name for coward. 
Cousin Lionel says. I know that I am not a coward, 
and of course I can’t be a bully.” 

“A quarrelsome, boasting fellow is always a 
bully, Charlie.” 

“I am not quarrelsome, mamma, and I don’t 
mean to brag; but, if anybody speaks ill of you 
or any one you like, I am bound to thrash or 
be thrashed. Has papa spent all the money, 
mamma?” 

The bright expression that had been called to 
Magdalen’s face by her boy’s childish prattle faded 
and gave place to one of intense pain as she 
answered, — 

“All, Charlie. We will be compelled to sell our 
house, our carriage, — every thing.” 

“Are you telling the truth, mamma, or is it only 
make-believe ?” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


255 


‘‘You care more for the money than for me, 
Charlie,” said Magdalen, reproachfully. 

^^Mamma! I don’t mind the money so much; 
but it was awfully mean to take the money and 
knock us around too. Don’t cry, please. I am 
going to be a doctor and a great man, — Pre- 
sident, may-be, — and then we will have glorious 
times.” 

“You can go to oollege but eighteen months 
longer. You cannot become a physician in that 
space of time.” 

“I^'o: that is so,” he said, his brow clouding. 
“But don’t be discouraged,” he added, hopefully. 
“Something will turn up. Or, if I can’t do any 
better, I will work for Dr. Linton, and he will make 
a doctor of me.” 

“I^ever fear, little cousin,” said a musical voice. 
“ If you wish to become a physician I will see that 
‘ something turns up.’ ” 

Dear, good Cousin Love!” cried the child. 
“Mamma, I told you so I” 

“I was an unintentional listener to your domestic 
dialogue, Magdalen,” said Love, “and earnestly 
crave pardon. But are your circumstances really 
as bad as you say, or are you merely teasing Charlie, 
as he suspected ?” 

“I have no home, Love,” she answered, sadly. 

“And I dare not ask you to share ours, although 


256 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


it would be a pleasure to Lionel to entertain you 
and Charlie for the sake of one who proved the 
kindest of friends. Such an invitation would be 
received as an insult to the proud and haughty 
Magdalen.” 

“ If I were that friend’s widow, I would not hesi- 
tate to go to you, I think. As it is, I must he 
what you have styled me, — ‘proud and haughty 
Magdalen.’ ” < 

“I expected this language from your lips, Mag- 
dalen.” 

“You are the last person who should dream of 
receiving me into your household. Love.” 

“And yet I would receive you with a warm 
welcome.” 

“ I do not doubt it. You are very kind to forgive 
the wretched past.” 

“I have forgotten the past, Magdalen. You 
have expiated all in the suffering of the few past 
years.” 

“ I would that I could forget ! hut, alas ! it is a 
haunting memory.” 

“What will you do for a support, Magdalen?” 
asked Love, anxious to divert her mind from a sub- 
ject painful to both. “ It is needless to expect aught 
from Neville. Upon you will devolve the duties 
which he should perform.” 

“ I know it, and have determined to seek a main- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 257 

tenance by teaching music. Do you think me 
competent?” 

‘‘Amply. Grace shall head your list. I have 
been instructing her myself ; but I fear I have done 
more harm than good. As soon as my baby Kate 
can talk, she too shall be your pupil.” 

“You are kind, Love.” 

“Do not compliment me, or I shall be spoiled,” 
said Love, gayly. 

“How can I ask the patronage of those whom 
I have heretofore deemed beneath me, and who 
will be rejoiced at my changed circumstances?” 

“ Do not ask any favors of them, Magdalen : they 
shall come to you. One thing more: if you will 
accept nothing for yourself from our hands, you will 
at least allow us to be as parents to Charlie. We 
have no son, and ” 

“Love, have pity!” cried Magdalen, whose eyes 
grew wild and her heart chill at Love’s words. 

“Do not mistake me, Magdalen. I do not wish 
to take your boy from you : all I ask is to be per- 
mitted to continue him at college until he shall 
graduate with honor to himself, to you, and 
to us.” 

“You have called me proud. Love. I could not 
if I would be so to you ; but ” 

“Prove yourself humble by allowing us to do 

this much for Charlie,” interrupted Love, eagerly. 

R 22* 


258 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


‘‘I cannot, — cannot.” 

‘‘Magdalen, I wound myself in wounding you; 
but I must say this much: if you have sacrificed 
your child for your husband, you dare not refuse 
to permit us to educate him. If you will, he shall 
repay us when he arrives at man’s estate and makes 
that fortune of which he is so sanguine. Further, 
if he remains at home an idle boy, his stepfather’s 
influence and example may cause you to repent 
having been too proud to accept our ofier. You 
surely will not madly risk seeing your noble boy a 
spendthrift, drunkard, and ” 

“Spare me, spare me!” gasped Magdalen. “I 
consent.” 

“My words were cruel, Magdalen; but you com- 
pelled me to use them, and will forgive me at some 
future time.” 

“I am glad that you used them, Love. I was 
blind, but am not so now.” 

“Little cousin !” 

Charlie turned from the window and stepped to 
Love’s side. 

“Charlie, I give you nine years to complete 
your education and become a physician,” 

The child gazed into the fair face of his kind 
friend in much perplexity. He had not heard the 
low-toned conversation carried on between the two 
ladies. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 259 

“ I mean that you shall stay at college nine years 
longer if you wish. . You will he, at the expiration 
of that time, seventeen years of age. Do you think 
you can graduate so young ?” 

“Oh, yes!” answered the boy, confidently; “I 
know I can.” 

“Do you like to go to college, Charlie ?” 

“ To tell the truth, cousin, we little fellows don't 
have much fun. But never mind ; I’ll study hard 
and get on the ‘ other side,’ where the fellows do 
have jolly times.” 

“What do you mean by having jolly times ?” 

“ Oh, playing tricks on the prefects, taking part 
in the dramatic representations, hoaxing the visitors, 
et cetera.” 

“ WTiat does ‘ et cetera’ mean ?” 

“ Catching all the unfortunate horses or cows that 
stray into the grounds, and making them pay for 
their dinner — ^the grass they don’t get a chance to 
eat — ^by taking all the boys a-riding.” 

“ What I all at once ? A heavy load !” 

“ Oh, no ! only nine or ten at one time. Then 
the big boys see all the ladies, and, oh, they have 
jolly times generally.” 

“ You will study very hard and be a good boy, 
Charlie,” said Love, more seriously. 

“ I promise about the studying, but I don’t know 
as to the goodness : I’ll try.” 


260 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Don’t forget,” said Love, rising to go. 

I won’t.” 

“ Good-bye, Magdalen ; good-bye, Charlie. 
Good-bye,” returned mother and son. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


261 


CHAPTER XXXHL 

As I sit musing here alone, 

And watch the evening shadows fall, 

And think upon the years now gone. 

Like setting sunbeams from the wall. 

My spirit sinks beneath its woe. 

Kate de Forest. 

A FEW months have passed, and we behold Magda- 
len, the once brilliant belle of the gay metropolis, 
to whom all had bowed in adoration, laboring for 
the daily bread of herself and husband. Xeville 
Heath had sunk into that disgusting object, a 
habitual drunkard. 

One chill Xovember evening she entered her 
little sitting-room, threw aside bonnet and shawl, 
and sank wearily into a chair. 

“ I cannot live, evening after evening, week after 
week, month after month, year after year, in this 
loneliness,” she murmured, passionately. “If this 
state of things continue, I shall die. I have lived 
amid the excitements of social, or rather fashionable, 
life so long, that it is impossible for me to exist in 
entire solitude. I must have some companionship 


262 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

or some amusement. Ah, why did I not think of 
this before ?’* 

She sprang up with a sudden lighting of the eye, 
crossed hastily to an adjoining apartment, and re- 
turned with a neatly-bound volume, pens, and ink. 
Seating herself at a small table, she began to write. 
Glancing over her shoulder, we follow the rapid 
movement of her pen, and read the characters it 
transcribes : — 

November 10. — I must relieve my overburdened 
heart in some manner. The majority of women 
find such relief as I seek in tears. I cannot weep, 
and therefore turn to the favorite amusement of my 
girlhood,— journalizing. As I glance over these 
long-neglected pages, this entry meets my eye. It 
dates hack many years : — 

“ As I sat alone to-day, the door of my boudoir 
flew open, and the sweet face of Annie Linton ap- 
peared. After discussing last night’s hall, and the 
belles and beaux that formed the company, our 
voices sunk into silence. It was broken by Annie, 
who startled me by exclaiming, — 

“ ‘ Magdalen, although you reign the undisputed 
belle of Washington and have broken hearts innu- 
merable, I verily believe you have never had a love- 
dream I’ 

“ ‘ Thinkest thou so, sweet ?’ I answered, laughing : 
‘ I have had twenty !’ 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 263 

“ ‘ You ? Why, who ever heard of a belle con- 
descending to the folly of loving any one hut her 
own sweet self? Are you serious, Magdalen? I 
believe you are ! Then you believe in second love, 
of course?’ 

‘ One question at a time, please ! I am perfectly 
serious when I assure you that I believe in the 
twentieth; further, that each succeeding love is 
truer and purer than the last.’ 

“ I knew the heart-history of the fair daughter of 
my good friend, my only friend, Dr. Linton, and 
wished to make her feel satisfied with herself if it 
were possible. She suspected me. 

“ ‘ You are laughing at me, Magdalen,’ she said, 
suspiciously., 

“ ‘I am not, Annie,’ I returned, gravely. ‘I am 
serious.’ 

“ My manner satisfied her. 

“ ‘ How they wrong you, Magdalen, when they 
call you heartless ! Perhaps you assume heartless- 
ness to hide your heart.’ 

“ Her careless words made me start with a sharp 
pain. I controlled myself, and cried, gayly, — 
^‘‘Whatr 

“ ‘ I mean,’ she answered, ‘ that it is possible that 
you love and are not loved again !’ 

‘ Barely possible ! Ah, I see you think that I 
am pining away because of Edmund s desertion. 


264 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

That touches my pride. He did not flirt me: on 
the contrary * 

“ She did not relish the turn the conversation had 
taken, and interrupted me : — 

“ ‘ I do regret, Magdalen, that I loved Charlie ere 
I met Edmund. He says he would not believe it 
possible that one could love a second time had he 
not experienced a flrst.* 

“ ‘ i^onsense, child ! he never loved me,* I assured 
her. ‘ I was jesting.* 

“ ‘ Ah, Magdalen, you were his flrst love !’ she 
answered, almost with tears. ‘But there are few 
girls in Washington whose lovers have not knelt 
at the feet of “Magdalen the Enchantress !*’ That’s 
some comfort! “Misery loves conjpany,’* you 
know.’ 

“‘You flatter me. If I were in your place, I 
should persuade myself that he feigned love for my 
rival for the sake of being in the fashion.’ 

“ ‘ A good idea ! and one upon which I shall act. 
Isn’t it a little singular that I was not married to 
Charlie ?’ she asked, as she drew on her gloves, pre- 
paratory to leaving. 

“ For a moment I forgot every thing but my great 
disappointment, and quoted, dreamily, — 


“ ‘ Whom first we love, you know, 

We seldom wed. Time rules us all, 

And then we women cannot choose our lot.’ ” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 265 

“ ‘ That last line is not exactly apropos to my 
case,’ cried Annie. ‘ But good-bye: I must go.’ 

“ 0 !N’eville Heath, I think of you with a strange, 
wild, tearless agony ! There may be many dreams 
of love, but there can be but one reality ; and thou 
art mine ! I cannot, I will not, yield you to that 
cold, pale girl who claims the title I alone should 
bear, that of [N'eville Heath’s wife! But he loves 
me; and she, a frail spring flower at best, shall 
droop and die when the summer breezes of feigned 
love give place to the chilling winter winds of un- 
feigned hate ! Be happy in your present, fair lady ! 
the future will be drear !” 

Am I happier now, I ask myself, as the neglected 
wife of a man who is no longer recognised as a gen- 
tleman by his old associates, than I was as the 
maiden who was wild with grief at the marriage of 
her lover? I am tenfold more wretched, I think; 
but it may be that I cannot realize after so many 
years the darkness that then shrouded my soul. 
Then I looked forward to the death of my rival as 
the means whereby I might attain a lifelong happi- 
ness. There was a gleam of light amid the dark- 
ness, — the light of hope : now even that has faded. 
I am hopeless. 

Thus far I had written when the door opened 
softly, and my boy, who is permitted to visit me 

twice each month, peeped slyly in. Knowing that 
23 


266 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

he wished to surprise me, I continued writing. He 
tiptoed across the room and placed his hands before 
my eyes. When I sprang up with a cry of affected 
terror, he laughed gleefully. Said I that I was 
hopeless ? I erase the word as I clasp him to my 
heart and hear him talk of future goodness and 
greatness to which he will attain for my sake. The 
darkest hour is just before the dawn, ’tis said. Can 
it be that I am destined to enjoy life once more? I 
will hope so. My sins have been scarlet ; but surely 
I have been sufficiently punished. At times a vague 
fear oppresses me that I will have further sorrows, — 
that I will be punished in my son. Spare me, O 
God, the trial of seeing him that which my husband 
has become, — ’tis that alone I fear, — and all else I 
will bear meekly. My fears may be idle ; I believe 
they are, — I am so prone to look upon life’s dark 
side. Enough for to-night. 

Again we refer to the pages of the journal : — 

December 18. — I must go to-day from house to 
house to serve those who, in many instances, once 
served me. I am spared the humiliation of solicit- 
ing their patronage by those almost angels, Love, 
Agnes, and Mary ; but they cannot protect me from 
the petty insults to which I am daily subjected. It 
is impossible for me to submit to these insults in 
passive silence; and I occasionally resent them in 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 267 

language calculated to leave a lasting impression 
upon those to whom it is addressed. 

Again : — 

March 6. — I once thought I could never bow 
my haughty spirit; but I have discovered that I 
must bear meekl}^ or be without pupils. Many 
employ me for the simple and sole reason of retali- 
ating for injuries, real or fancied, which they charge 
me with having inflicted. Truly I must have been 
a demon ! I am charged with being the cause of 
all the hearts that have been broken, all the duels 
that have been fought, and all the suicides that 
have occurred in Washington since I was a girl of 
sixteen. More terrible still, many are convinced 
that I poisoned Grace Heath. I escaped narrowly ; 
but I can say, with truth, I am innocent of the crime 
of murder. 


268 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The pilgrim swallow cometh 
To her forsaken nest ; 

So must the heart that roameth 
Return to find its rest. — Mrs. Hale. 

Xearly eleven years have passed, bringing the 
usual changes. 

Magdalen Heath resides in the same little cottage, 
and her condition is much the same, as when we 
last saw her. Her husband has not amended, but 
her son is all she could wish. He has grown into 
a tall handsome youth of twenty-one, and his 
beauty, added to his blameless character, prepossesses 
all in his favor. After graduating with the usual 
collegiate honors, he had, through Lionel’s influ- 
ence, entered the office of a physician of high repu- 
tation for the purpose of completing his medical 
studies. 

One night in February, Magdalen had prepared a 
dainty supper for Charlie, and sat down with her 
sewing to wait his coming. 

A half-hour passed, and he was still absent. She 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


269 


threw aside her work and walked to and fro in 
restless impatience, wondering anxiously why he 
was so late. She turned toward the door for the 
purpose of looking out, when it was burst open, and 
Charlie, his clothes soiled with blood, sprang into 
the room. 

“Oh, Charlie! you have been fighting!” cried 
Magdalen. “Where are you hurt?” 

“ I have not been fighting, mamma, and I am 
not hurt, but ” 

“ Then you have killed some one !” she cried, 
wildly. “ Oh, God ! have I lived through so many 
years of suffering to see my boy a murderer at 
last ?” 

“ Mamma, mamma, let me tell you all about it,” 
urged Charlie, much alarmed by his mother’s man- 
ner and words. “ As I was passing Lamb’s, I heard 
the noise of a scuffle, and, peeping in, saw papa and 
another man fighting. I tried to push through the 
crowd to get papa away, but before I reached 
them the fellow had knocked papa down and was 
kicking him about the face and head. When I 
attempted to drag the brute back,— a powerfully- 
built man, by-the-way, — ^he turned and struck me a 
blow that made me stagger. He was about to 
follow it up with another ; but the bystanders inter- 
fered and took him away. Two or three of the 

men promised to bring papa home, and I hastened 
23 * 


270 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

on to tell you all that had occurred. Papa is very 
badly injured. Here they are.” 

Neville was shockingly bruised, and it was several 
weeks ere he was sufficiently recovered to leave his 
bed. During his illness, Magdalen’s care had been 
tender and unwearied, and she felt amply repaid 
when he assured her that he would never drink 
again. 

“I have been mad, my Magdalen, for many 
years,” he said. ‘‘ Fallen and degraded as I was, 
you have clung to and loved me through all.” 

Her voice was low and sweet as she bent her head 
upon his shoulder, murmuring, — 

*‘Oh, Tvhat was love made for, 

If ’tis not the same 
Through joy and through torments, 

Through glory and shame ? 

1 know not, I ask not, 

If guilt’s in that heart: 

I but know that I love thee, 

Whatever thou art.” 

There was a long silence, which was broken at 
length by Magdalen : — 

“ Do not make any promises of immediate refor- 
mation, Neville. It is difficult to cast off at once 
such habits as ” 

“Do not fear, Magdalen,” he interrupted. “I 
am about to make the customary excuse of drunk- 
ards; but you will believe me when I say that I have 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


271 


drank for the purpose of forgetting many things it 
was agony to remember. Henceforward you shall 
have no cause to blush for your husband. I was 
horn a gentleman, and for the remainder of my life 
shall live one : my dissipated course has made that 
remnant brief, I fear. I am sadly broken, Mag- 
dalen.” 

“You are pale and thin now, Heville. I will yet 
see you in perfect health.” 

He shook his head and sighed, as Magdalen arose 
to answer a summons at the door. She returned 
with two small, perfumed notes. The first she tossed 
to her husband; she laid the second, which bore 
Charlie’s address, on the mantel. 

“Is it possible that we are still recognised in 
‘polite society’ ? I was under the impression that 
we were ‘ outside barbarians,’ ” said Heville, glancing 
smilingly upward. 

“We are occasionally complimented with ‘cards.’ 
Hot often,” returned Magdalen. 

“Do you ever accept ?” 

“Ho. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Heath’ invariably ‘regret,’ 
&c.” Their eyes met, and they laughed gayly, 
merrily. Magdalen made an elaborate curtsey. 

“I hope you enjoy good health, sir,” she said, 
still laughing. 

“ Such poor health, madam, that I am constrained 
to bow my acknowledgments sitting,” answered 


272 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


l^eville, with a lowly inclination. “ It is at the 
same time laughable and sad,” he continued, more 
seriously, ‘‘that we meet to-night as strangers.” 

Charlie entered at the instant, and his mother 
gave him the invitation. 

“ It looks strangely like a love-letter, Charlie.” 

“Appearances are often deceptive, Madame Mere: 
this is only an invitation to Mrs. Calvert’s — Hold ! 
There are a few lines in pencil informing me, in 
complimentary terms, that the/^te is in honor of my 
departure.” 

The light faded from Magdalen’s eyes. 

“ Oh, Charlie, as the time of departure draws 
near I feel that I cannot let you go.” 

“ But you must. I am determined to place you in 
the position you occupied at the time of my father’s 
death. Wealth is the means needed, and wealth I 
will have. My profession is a good one, and Dr. 
Wilson compliments me by saying that I cannot fail 
of success.” 

“ You can succeed here if anywhere.” 

“ It will take a long time to make a fortune in 
Washington.” 

“True, But I will he content with a compe- 
tency.” 

“ You have approved of my determination to seek 
fortune in a distant country, and I will not consent 
that you withdraw that approval. Besides, I am 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 273 

ambitious of political honors. In Washington the 
field is far too limited. I could never be content 
with the petty offices within the gift of my fellow- 
citizens of the District. I am at higher things, — 
member, Senator, President. I say, mamma, is 
supper nearly ready?” 

“ ‘ ’Tis but a step from the sublime to the ridicu- 
lous,’ ” laughed Magdalen. 

“ There is nothing absurd in a good supper, let 
me tell you. To a hungry man it is a sight that 
approximates to the sublime. Don’t reply. Instead 
of discussing the question, we will discuss the sup- 
per. Where’s papa ?” 

“Here,” answered the pleasant voice of Heville. 
Heath. 

“ This is true happiness,” murmured Magdalen’s 
heart ; and her radiant eyes echoed the whisper. 

S 


274 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTEESS. 




CHAPTEE XXXV. 

There’s nothing half so sweet in life 
As love’s young dream. — Moore. 

“ You will go with me to-night, mamma ?” coaxed 
Charlie, with his arm about his mother’s waist. 

“ It has been so long since I mingled in society, 
I fear I should make you blush at my want of 
ease.” 

“ I’ll wager ten to one that you will acquit your- 
self with more high-bred grace than any lady 
present.” 

“I shall have to offer another excuse. I don’t 
like the idea of placing my homely old face as a 
foil to enhance the loveliness of the gay young 
' beauties who will grace Mistress Calvert’s rooms.” 

“Ah, mamma, I see through your wiles,” he 
said, slyly. “ It has been a long time since any one 
has complimented you on your beauty ” 

“Hush, hush,” cried his mother, laughing, “and 
I will confess the true reason. I have nothing to 
wear. It would never do to wear this,” (glancing 
downward to the brown merino dress she wore.) 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


275 


“ Is that your only objection ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Good ! That is soon met.” 

He darted out of the room and returned with two 
dresses that Magdalen had forgotten she possessed, 
— a black velvet and a heavy brocaded silk. 

“Where did you find these things?” asked Mag- 
dalen. 

“Where they were to be found.” 

“This,” said Magdalen, lifting the brocade, “is 
rather old-fashioned.” 

“ The other is much handsomer.” 

“ The most important part of a lady’s toilette is 
wanting, — the etceteras, — collar, sleeves, gloves, 
shoes, stockings, flowers, feathers, or jewels.” 

“You omitted to mention handkerchief, powder, 
and paint. I know all about it. I have become a 
critic in regard to the wearing-apparel of the femi- 
nine portion of the community within the week. 
I am prepared to look upon any lady who wears 
green gloves and a blue bonnet with intense dis- 
gust. ‘Oh, dear!’” (raising his hands and clasping 
them together,) ‘ Kate, love, I saw Carrie Single- 
ton on the Avenue a moment since, with such a 
dear, darling, bewitching little hat, and just the 
sweetest mantle ; but the entire thing was spoiled 
by — would you believe it, Kate? — oh, dear! — her 
gloves were a shade too light !’ Just the way Ket 


276 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


Ford went on to Kate this morning. But hurrah 
for the collar, sleeves, gloves, &c !” 

He hurried out of the room again, and, returning 
almost immediately, laid several packages on the table. 

“This is the collar and sleeves. I found them 
with the dresses, and got Kate to coax Aunt Bell to 
wash them. I believe that old woman is going to 
live forever. Here are the gloves, stockings, and 
handkerchief : Kate bought them for me. I asked 
her to lend me her powder and paint; but, hey- 
day ! Mistress Katie pouted her sweet lip and 
walked out of the room with the tread of an 
empress. Here are the flowers. We will dispense 
with the feathers and jewels, — with the former 
through choice, with the latter through necessity. 
We will go in an hour, mamma.” 

“ I cannot go, Charlie ; indeed, I cannot go.” 

“Then I shall stay at home too,” he said, 
decidedly. “We must spend this last evening 
together.” 

“Well, well, don’t tease me. I will he ready in 
less than an hour.” 

“Why, Magdalen !” cried Mary, “how glad I am 
to see you !” 

“ My dear Mrs. Heath, I am delighted to see you 
disposed to enter society again,” was the form of 
greeting adopted by Mrs. Ford, who was wondering 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 277 

the while how in the world she managed to get a 
silk velvet. “Your reappearance will create a 
greater sensation than the dehut of a belle of sweet 
sixteen. Washington will go mad again about 
‘Magdalen the Enchantress.* ” 

“ Madam, we should leave such folly to younger 
women,” said Magdalen, coldly, but instantly 
added, gently, “Forgive me, Lizzie. I have had 
much trouble since our girlish days, and it has not 
tended to improve a temper naturally inclined to 
acidity.” 

Even Mrs. Ford, selfish and artificial though she 
was, seemed touched. 

“I am very sorry, Magdalen, that I spoke so 
thoughtlessly.” 

“ Come, mamma,” said Charlie, anxious to ter- 
minate the interview, “Mrs. Percy and Cousin 
Aggie are waiting impatiently.” 

They crossed to where Love and Agnes were 
sitting. Charlie whispered in Mrs. Percy’s ear. 

“Yes,” answered Love. “She is in the ball- 
room. She is too young to be present at so large a 
party ; but she rebelled against my authority, and 
was aided in setting it aside by her father.” 

“Ladies, you can come when you please,” said 
Charlie, hastening away. “ I must dance the first 
‘ set’ with Katie.” 

The first quadrille was forming as he entered the 
24 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


ballroom, and many a fair maiden’s eyes grew 
brighter as he approached, but dimmed again as 
he bowed and passed on to pause at Kate Percy’s 
side. 

“What does he see in that child to cause him to 
treat the rest of us so indifferently ?” murmured a 
beautiful blue-eyed girl, petulantly. 

“Youth, beauty, and a sweet temper,” answered 
her companion. 

“ Youth ! I should think so ! A child ! Beauty ! 
Bah ! She is not half so pretty as — ^you.’ 

“As yourself, you mean,” returned the girl, 
coloring. “ I am deeply sensible of my homeliness, 
Kettie. Kate Percy would never have reminded 
me of my personal defects.” 

“You are not homely, Mattie. I think you 
rather pretty,” observed Kettie Ford, carelessly. 

“Neither would she insult me with such flattery. 
I know I am ugly ” 

“Make the most of the knowledge, then,” was 
the cool rejoinder, as the speaker turned away to 
accept the offered arm of a young exquisite who 
sported “the buttons” without being entitled to the 
honor of wearing them. 

Charlie Clinton, who deeply felt the disgrace 
attaching to him through his stepfather, was proud 
and cold to Kate Percy’s girlish friends, fearing, 
if he were more than distantly courteous, they 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 279 

might view his attentions as impertinent and pre- 
sumptuous. This was one reason why he treated 
them so cavalierly; but there was still another. 
He really preferred Kate — who was, as Kettle Ford 
had said, almost a child — to that amiable young 
lady and others of a similar stamp: therefore he 
asked her the question others wished to hear : — 

‘^Kate, are you engaged?” 

“Yes, — to Mr. Calvert,” she answered, glancing 
up to Henry’s still handsome face. “ But I’ll break 
my engagement and dance with you this time, and 
let him wait until I can’t get any other partner.” 

“I don’t care about dancing with you, little 
jilt,” said Henry, patting her cheek. 

“Ah, Mr. Calvert, don’t say that, now. Please, 
don’t say that,” she called, coaxingly, as Charlie 
led her away to join the dancers. 

“ Have we a vis-h-vis, Katie ?” 

“ Grace and Mr. Will Calvert. By-the-way, he 
was a lover of mamma’s long ago, and people do say 
that he has fallen in love with her daughter.” 

“You?” 

“ Konsense ! Grace, of course. And, Charlie, I 
think that Grace has fallen in love with him.” 

“You do?” 

“ I am sure of it. Hush !” she whispered, warn- 
ingly, as our old friend Willie Calvert approached 
with the fair daughter of his first love. Grace 


280 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Percy was to him not Grace Percy, but Love Picb- 
mond, — so striking was the resemblance between 
mother and daughter when the former was seven- 
teen. 

“It is too bad, Love,” laughed Mary, directing 
her friend’s attention to Will and Grace, “ that the 
romance of your life is to be spoiled by the mar- 
riage of so constant a lover as Will has been. You 
no longer reign his heart’s empress, thanks to that 
little usurper Grace.” 

“Pardon me : I think it completes the romance,” 
returned Love, smiling. “ What do you think, Mr. 
O’Mel ?” 

“As you do, madam,” returned Jack O’Mel, who 
stood near, conversing with Magdalen. His heart 
beat no quicker as his eyes met hers. He did not 
recognise in matronly Mrs. Percy the laughing girl 
who, years agone, had taught his heart love’s lesson. 
He loved to picture her as lying still and beautiful, 
with her hands crossed meekly on her bosom, and 
her white forehead shaded by a cypress crown, the 
bride of death. 

At eleven o’clock Magdalen excused herself and 
returned home. Two hours later, Charlie trod the 
same road with Kate. 

“As I leave for California in the morning, I 
may never see you again, — not for two years, cer- 
tainly.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


281 


‘‘I know it,” she answered, quietly. 

“Egad! you take it coolly,” he said, laughing. 
“You love me, don’t you?” 

“Well, yes, — rather.” 

“ Then you should go into the heroics.” 

“ I am not an actress.” 

“Yours is a silent sorrow, perhaps?” 

“ A silent sorrow ? Yes.” 

“ Good-bye, Katie.” 

He made a movement as if to kiss her ; but she 
stepped back and held up her hand. 

“Good-bye, Charlie.” 

He opened the gate for her, then turned hastily 
away. Looking back, he saw her standing in the 
bright moonlight, holding the gate open. He raised 
his hat in answer to her parting bow, and, as the 
gate closed, passed onward, murmuring, — 

“ That slender, grave-eyed child is my star of 
destiny.” 


24 * 


282 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Can this be death ? then what is life or death ? 

“ Speak I” but he spoke not : “ Wake !” but still he slept. 

Byron. 

Two years flew by, and Magdalen was again a 
widow. 

From tbe date of his sudden reformation, Neville 
had remained steadfast to his resolution of living a 
sober man. Still, Magdalen was in constant fear of 
a relapse into dissipation, and, when he died sincerely 
penitent, she closed his eyes with^a prayer of thanks- 
giving in her heart and on her lips that God had 
been so merciful. 

Magdalen was greatly surprised when many who 
had disliked her in her days of pride came to her 
when alone, and, as she thought, almost friendless, 
and offered her a home. She gratefully declined 
these kindly invitations, and signified her intention 
of remaining for a time with Love. Then it was 
that the lesson Mr. O’Niel had failed to impress 
upon her many years before awoke in her memory 
and struck her with its force and truth. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 283 

“Believe me, my child,” were his words, “the 
world is not a had world ; and it is your own fault if 
you find in it enemies in place of friends.” 

“He was right,” she mused. “We children of 
earth make or mar our destinies. The evil which I 
attributed to others was within my own heart. 
If I had received this knowledge years since, I 
might have spared myself and others much unhap- 
piness.” 

We will leave Magdalen safely domiciled with 
Love, and fiit onward to the feet of the fairest of 
Columbia’s radiant daughters, young California. 

Charlie had fixed upon San Francisco as the field 
wherein to labor, and he had been successful beyond 
his hopes. 

At twelve o’clock one night he sat alone in his 
office, thinking of his mother and of Kate, — she was 
still the bright star of his destiny, — when the door 
was thrown open, and a friend hurried into the 
room. 

“ Clinton, there has been a row at Alton’s, and a 
man is shot ! Come quick !” 

Charlie, catching up his hat and a case of surgical 
instruments, hastened to the scene of the difficulty. 

A comrade of the wounded man, who had been 
supporting his head, stepped back and gave place to 
Charlie. As the young surgeon knelt beside his 
patient to probe the wound, a voice outside cried, — 


284 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“ Shoot low : aim at his heart !” 

There was a sharp report ; and Charlie Clinton 
staggered to his feet and was caught by his friend, 
who laid him gently down. 

Again the voice outside was heard : — 

“ Great God, Walters ! you have shot the wrong 
man !’» 

Then all was still. 

“Lee,” gasped Charlie, “I am dying. The mail 
leaves to-morrow morning. Write to my mother 
to-night, immediately. Enclose a tress of my hair, 
and this ring. Tell her to give the ring to Katie. 
Tell her — Father of mercies, receive my soul ! — Mo- 
ther ! Katie ! I die ! 0 God ” 

The words that were to follow died upon his lips, 
and he sank back, to all appearance dead. 

Lee Hughes opened a blade of his penknife and 
severed a tress of the* beautiful hair that shaded 
Charlie’s marble forehead. Commending the corpse 
to the care of several horror-stricken friends of the 
deceased, who had been drawn to the place by the 
report of a fight, Lee hurried away to write and 
mail the letter, lest it should be too late for the 
departing steamer. 

Three days after the steamer arrived at Hew 
York, Magdalen received a letter bearing the San 
Francisco post-mark. 

“A letter from Charlie, Kate,” she observed. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 285 

breaking the seal. As Magdalen unfolded the 
pages, a ring well known to her, it having been 
her engagement-ring from Captain Clinton, fell to 
the floor and rolled to Kate Percy’s feet. 

Kate recovered the jewel, and was about to return 
it to Magdalen, when the latter fell heavily to the 
floor. Kate partially raised her and called loudly 
to her mother. 

“What is the matter, Magdalen?” asked Love, 
anxiously, when Magdalen awakened from the 
swoon that seemed like death. 

The wretched woman gazed vacantly into the 
sympathizing face bending over her, and wrung her 
hands and wept. 

“Is Charlie sick, dear Mrs. Heath ?” asked Kate, 
fearfully. 

“ He is dead ! Oh, Love, this is more than I can 
bear. Sorrows never come singly. Three months 
ago I had husband and son. How I am widowed 
and childless. Once again I am alone in the world, 
— alone, alone !” 

She turned her face to the wall and prayed as 
Grace Heath once prayed : — 

“ O God ! let me die ! let me die !” 

They forbore to question her in regard to the 
cause of his death ; but when she grew more com- 
posed she handed Kate the letter. The young girl’s 
face was as colorless as Magdalen s as she read : — 


286 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


‘‘My dear Madam: — The blow I am about to 
inflict upon your heart I would gladly soften, but 
cannot. Your son is dead. Thirty minutes since, 
the ball intended for another killed him. He died 
in my arms, and, dying, bade me write immediately 
to you. I enclose a lock of hair and a ring, — the 
last for Katie. 

“ I will write by the next steamer. I close this 
brief epistle by begging that you will command my 
^ services in any way. 

“ Yery respectfully, 

“ Your obedient servant, 

“Lee Hughes.*' 

Kate gave the letter to her mother and passed 
slowly from the room, murmuring, “I^o hope.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


287 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

“ Like ghosts are memories of the past call’d up, 

To tell my soul God’s judgments all are just. 

A glad young life I blighted years agone ; 

I made another childless by my arts : 

Alas I I’m childless now I” 

Three months elapsed, and Magdalen’s wild agony 
for the loss of her son had subsided into a brooding 
melancholy. She had heard nothing further from 
Lee Hughes ; but she was too listless to wonder at 
his silence. 

One morning, as she sat alone in her room, with 
her hands lying idly in her lap, a servant brought 
her a card inscribed with the name of Mr. Dun- 
nington. 

“I do not receive visitors, James.” 

“Jist what I telled him, mistress; hut he say, 
frowning, ‘ Say to Mrs. Heath that I am Catherine 
Dunnington’s cousin, and must see her.’ ” 

The expression of indifference that sat upon Mag- 
dalen’s face changed to one of intense pain, as she 
answered, — 

“ Tell the gentleman that I will not keep him 
waiting, James.” 


288 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


The servant left the room to deliver the message, 
and Magdalen turned to the mirror to arrange her 
disordered hair. 

Willis Dunnington was prepared to meet the 
Magdalen of his imagination with anger and scorn ; 
but when the pale widow glided into the room in 
her mourning-robes, looking so sad and sorrowful, 
and so beautiful withal, such feelings vanished. 

‘‘Softly, my boy!” he murmured, under his 
breath: “we will test this saintly beauty ere we 
acknowledge her spells. She must have been a 
miracle of loveliness in her youth, being still super- 
latively lovely.” 

This mental soliloquy was cut short by Magda- 
len : — 

“ Sir, you wished to see me. There is no mis- 
take?” 

“You are Mrs. Heath ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Mrs. Magdalen Heath ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ There is no mistake. My errand is somewhat 
remarkable, madam, and I scarcely know how to 
acquaint you with it. I must introduce myself by 
stating that I am the nephew of Mr. Dunnington, 
lately deceased. You were personally known to 
him, I believe ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


289 


“His only child, a daughter, died many years 
ago.” 

Magdalen bowed her head, partly in token of 
assent, partly to conceal the tears that filled her 
eyes. 

“ Lovely widow ! Tears, wiles, witcheries, spells !” 
were the mental ejaculations indulged in by sus- 
picious Willis Dunnington, who was rapidly losing 
his self-possession and his heart. “ Shortly before 
her death,” he continued, “ she induced her father 
to promise that, should you ever be reduced to 
poverty and suffering, of which there was little pro- 
bability at that time, he would seek you out and 
place at your disposal some thousands of dollars as 
an earnest of her entire forgiveness for a — for 

some Excuse me, madam, I was very young at 

the time ” 

“But you have heard much of her history and 
mine,” interrupted Magdalen, gently. “My guilt 
has been magnified, perhaps ; but her saintly inno- 
cence was a beautiful reality. Proceed, sir.” 

“ Her death was followed by the decease of Cap- 
tain Clinton and Mrs. Heath. You then married 
the gentleman whose name you bear. Your hus- 
band met with reverses, and your circumstances 
became much reduced. This was the proper time 
for my uncle to step forward and fulfil his promise. 

He failed to do so, not from penuriousness, but 
T 26 


290 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


because he could not forget the past. At his death 
he bequeathed his large property to me on condition 
of my transferring forty thousand dollars to you. 
He bade me to ask, in his name, forgiveness for the 
neglect, and to beg that you would not judge him 
harshly. The amount specified is in the Bank of 

, subject to your order. And now, madam, 

pardon me if I have wounded you, and permit me 
to retire.” 

“ Stay, sir. I cannot accept this gift.” 

“Madam?” 

“ I repeat, sir : I cannot accept this gift.” 

“ Madam, I insist. Do not fear to injure me by 
accepting. I have more than enough exclusive of 
your forty thousand.” 

“ It is not mine.” 

“But, madam, you must ” 

“I cannot,” she interrupted. 

“ But, madam ” 

“ Stay, sir. I will not.” 

Her language and manner were firm and unyield- 
ing, but at the same time gentle and womanly. 

“Madam, I am silent. Good-morning.” 

“You are not offended, sir ?” 

“ Madam, from my heart and soul I honor you,” 
he returned, with a low bow. “Instead of good- 
morning I will say good-bye, as I leave Washington 
to-morrow.” 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


291 


“You are not a resident of Washington ?” 

“ Of Virginia, madam.” 

“ If you should change your present purpose and 
remain in Washington for a time, Mrs. Percy would 
gladly welcome you for the sake of your cousin 
Kate, who was the cherished friend of her girl- 
hood.” 

Suspicion sat enthroned once more. 

“Hoity-toity !” she cried: “you are a fool, Willis 
Dunnington. Man-traps, my good fellow. She 
plays sweet and pretty, rejects the forty thousand, 
and is morally certain of the entire fortune, and 
yourself to hoot. You gudgeon !” 

Reason read a different lesson : — 

“ Don’t flatter yourself, Willis. You have wealth 
and beauty; but she wouldn’t marry you if you 
were ten times as rich and twenty times as hand- 
some.” 

Willis listened to both, but was inclined to side 
with reason. 

‘‘I will call upon Mrs. Percy if I remain.” 

“ I will insure you a cordial welcome.” 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Heath.” 

“ Good-morning, sir.” 

He rode towards his hotel, thinking of Magdalen, 
while she sat with Love, recounting this singular 
incident in her eventful history. 


292 


MAGDALEN THE ENGHANTRESS. 


CHAPfEE XXXVm 

I deem’d that each bright hope had faded, 

And with sorrow my young life was shaded ; 

But, like clouds that are broken and rifted 
Till the sunshine gleams through, so was lifted 
From my spirit its dark weight of sadness ; 

And my life is all sunlight and gladness. — Minnie. 

The chandeliers had just been lighted in the par- 
lors of Mr. Percy’s mansion, and Kate sits alone, 
brooding sadly on her darkened life, when a young 
gentleman bounded lightly up the steps and rang a 
merry peal upon the door-bell. 

“ That sounds mightily like poor dead Marse 
Charlie, Miss Katie,” observed Aunt Bell, as she 
looked in upon her young mistress on her way to 
answer the summons. 

In less than a moment the old creature ran 
screaming into the parlor, closely pursued by what 
she sincerely believed to be the dead youth’s ghost. 

Kate, the sole occupant of the room, put away the 
clinging arms of the terror-stricken servant, and 
stepped eagerly forward to greet him whom she had 
mourned so hopelessly. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 293 

“ Could you have seen Aunt Bell’s wild eyes as I 
stepped into the hall just now, you would have sup- 
posed me a ghost, instead of a living man of solid 
flesh and flowing blood,” cried Charlie, gleefully, as 
he grasped Kate’s hand. 

“ Why, Lordy-mighty, Marse Charlie, a’n’t you 
dead ?” asked the old woman, who still remained 
near her mistress, clinging to her dress. 

‘‘ Why, Lordy-mighty, no, Aunt Bell ! Shake 
hands with me : that will test whether I be living or 
dead.” 

Aunt Bell eyed his outstretched palm somewhat 
suspiciously, but Anally, encouraged by Kate’s fear- 
lessness, leaned over and placed her hand in his. 

‘‘ I never felt so queer in all my life,” she after- 
wards declared, “ ’case I thought he was a dead and 
gone ghost, who was a-goin’ to vanish away with I 
and Miss Katie on the spot.” 

After shaking hands with his ghostship. Aunt 
Bell stepped back, stately and dignified as of old. 

“ What possessed Aunt Bell to carry on so, 
Katie ?” asked Charlie. ‘‘Has she turned foolish in 
her old age ? or is she a convert to spiritualism ?” 

“It is natural that she should be agitated by your 
sudden and unexpected appearance. Three months 
since we received a letter informing us of your 
death,” (Kate spoke rapidly but quietly,) “and the 
mistake was never corrected.” 


294 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

“And mamma?’' 

“ The blow fell heavily, and almost crazed her 
for a time. I will bring her to you.” 

She hurried out of the room, and Charlie turned 
to Aunt Bell. 

“ Come here, you dear old creature,” he cried, 
making a dash at her. “Let me embrace you, and, 
at the same time, beg your gracious pardon for 
thinking you a fool.” 

“ Go ’long with your nigger nonsense,” cried the 
old woman, indignantly rejecting the proffered 
caress. “If anybody buys tm for a fool, they’ll lose 
their money. ’Deed will they.” 

Hearing several persons descending the staircase, 
he ran to meet them, and almost carried his mother 
into the parlor. 

The news that the report of Charlie’s death had 
been a horrible mistake spread rapidly through the 
house, and the inmates, white and black, assembled 
in the parlor or lingered near the threshold to wel- 
come him and listen to his explanations. 

“ To begin at the beginning,” he said, “ there was 
a shooting-match at a house near my office, in 
which a man was shot, and I was summoned to 
attend him. As I knelt beside him for the purpose 
of examining the wound, a ball was fired through 
the window and entered my bosom, infiicting, as I 
then thought, a mortal wound. Under the impres- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 295 

sion that I could not possibly survive twenty 
minutes, I requested Lee Hughes to write to you. 
He had scarcely promised when I became insensible. 
He, thinking me dead, hurried off to do my bid- 
ding, and I was conveyed to my lodgings by other 
friends. Lee returned after a few hours’ absence 
and found me quietly sleeping. The wound proved 
to be severe, hut not dangerously so, and I re- 
covered rapidly. It was too late to reclaim Lee’s 
letter, and I was compelled to wait until the 
sailing of the next steamer ere I could inform you 
of my actual return to life and of my contem- 
plated return to Washington. My letter, of course, 
miscarried; and it is little wonder that Aunt 
Bell was frightened into fits by my ghostly visita- 
tion.” 

“For how long a period will you remain with 
us, Charlie?” inquired Love. 

“ I shall sail in two months, madam.” 

“ I shall have ample time to get ready,” observed 
Magdalen. 

“ Get ready ! For what, mamma ?” 

“ I intend to accompany you on your homeward 
journey,” answered his mother. “I will never 
permit you to leave me again. Do not advance 
any argument to dissuade me. My resolution is 
fixed and unalterable.” 

“I will offer no objection, certainly, mamma.” 


296 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


And we cannot object,” said Love. 

Charlie overstayed his time a month, and when 
he finally bade farewell to Washington, and de- 
parted for California, his mother bore him com- 
pany. 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


297 



>:‘i v 0” - iij j.j;. Tj!-: . : t : 

: XXYTX. 

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, 

, ' . ^ So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 

' The smiles that win, the tints that glow. 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 
j. A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent ! — Byron. 

'.j- :;>] ; = 'nriiiA’'' .. nii-. / • .- • ^•!_i 

. . , , . I have seen change. ^ I’ve trod the glittering way ; 

Of the loud throng, and lived in lighted halls ; 

Fate, too, has call’d me to another scene. 

And time has brought its trial. I have pass’d 
To life’s extremest quiet, and lain down 
In thankfulness of spirit that my heart 
Found joy, in that sweet silence. I have said. 

Let the world heave on in its ocean-noise, 

I ask but friends and home ; and, if to these 
Heaven add the boon of love, my lot is full. 

And rapture yet may light my pilgrimage. 

Grenville Mellen. 

• 7 -:ii^ i . , i i ' . 

“All’s well that ends well.”., ‘ , , , 

We hasten oh to .the close. ' ni : "ni V 

Magdalen and Charlie, after an absence of two 
years, have returned home, and a ‘group of familiar 
faces have gathered round Mr. Percy’s table to 
honor the return of the travellers. - We recognise 
Jack and Agnes, Henry and Mary, Willie and 


298 MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 

Grace, Lionel and Love ; and last, though not least, 
Aunt Bell, who has assumed with her “quality 
’spression” a shining black silk, a snowy apron, 
and an immaculate turban. She stands ready, salver 
in hand, to assist in serving those chosen guests of 
her mistress, who on their part are deeply sensible 
of the condescension of the stately old family ser- 
vant. There were three absentees, — Magdalen, who 
was still in her room, and Charlie and Kate, who 
were out among the flowers. 

“ Grace,” said Lionel to his daughter, “ Mrs. Heath 
will be down presently. Call Charlie and Kate.” 

Fair sir or gentle madam, you wish to know 
what Charlie said, and what Kate answered, as they 
lingered by the gate that had witnessed a parting 
between them four years previous, — a laudable 
curiosity, which should be gratifled, and shall. 

“You love me, Katie?” was Charlie’s rather 
egotistical remark, as he leaned upon the gate. 

“ That, sir, is a question open to discussion,” she 
answered, archly. 

“Pardon me. I should have said, ‘I love yow, 
Katie.’ They say this thing of coming to the point 
is apt to shatter a fellow’s nerves. Konsense ! It is 
the simplest thing in the world. I have but to say, 
‘ I love you, Katie,’ you to answer, — ” 

“ I love you, Charlie,” — 

— “ and Kate Percy and Charlie Clinton are en- 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


299 


gaged. If I had made a fool of myself by falling 
at your feet with a lackadaisacal expression of 
countenance, — made faces and called you names, — 
what would you have done ?” 

“Refused you, perhaps,” she answered, laughing. 

“ Right ! We are sensible folks, Katie.” 

“ Beyond question or doubt.” 

“ Right again ! Come ! The supper-bell is 
ringing.” 

When within a few paces of the house, Charlie 
abruptly paused, and said, with a quizzical smile, — 

“ I forgot one thing, Katie.” 

“What is it?” she asked, lifting her drooping 
head, and unveiling her eyes. 

“To ” 

He bent downward until his lips touched hers. 

“ Kiss you.” 

She would have broken from him ; but he detained 
her to say, — 

“We are sensible folks, Katie.” 

“We may be; yet very few would endorse your 
last act as a sensible one,” she retorted. 

The door opened, and Grace appeared on the 
threshold. 

“Please don’t keep us waiting all night,” she 
called. “ I am hungry.” 

“ Your cheeks are unusually rosy to-night, Katie,” 
said Lionel, unsuspectingly, laying the back of his 


300 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


hand against her cheek. “ You look feverish. Are 
you well, daughter ?” 

“Yes, sir, — quite well,” answered poor blushing 
Kate. 

“What gives you such a becoming color?” 

“ The wind is rather high, sir,” interposed Charlie, 
“and Katie’s cheeks are still modestly blushing 
beneath his kisses.” 

“ Who kissed Kate ? Has Kate really permitted 
any one to kiss her?” exclaimed Magdalen, who 
had heard only the latter part of the sentence, on 
her entrance. 

“ Only the wind, mamma; only the wind.” 

“Ko such thing, mistiss !” cried Aunt Bell. 
“You can’t fool me, Marse Charlie, if I ^ a fool. 
You're been a kissin’ of Miss Katie.” 

“I should like to have you swear to that fact,” 
said Charlie, coolly seating himself at the table. 

“Jest as you please, Marse Charlie. The moon’s 
up,” (pointing to the window with a triumphant 
chuckle,) “and so’s the blind.” 

“How often did he kiss her. Aunt Bell?” asked 
Lionel, after the laughter Aunt Bell’s words and 
manner had called forth subsided. 

“ Only once, Marse Lionel ; only once. And she 
couldn’t help it, poor little innocent! He kissed 
quicker’n a flash o’ lightnin’.” 

“Bring me a glass of water. Aunt Bell,” said 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 301 

Charlie, in order to prevent further conversation on 
a subject so fraught with embarrassment to at least 
one of the parties present. 

Ere many months had flown, the following notices 
appeared in the Washington journals; — 

“ On the 16th inst., by the Kev. James B. White, 
William Calvert and Grace Percy.” 

“ On the same day, by the same, Charles E. Clin- 
ton and Catherine Percy.” 

Charlie abandoned his dreams of political prefer- 
ment after his marriage, and settled quietly down 
in Washington. 

Jack and Agnes are still living, loved and honored, 
alone, but not lonely. 

Willis Dunnington teases his wife by declaring 
that she never had but one rival, and that one was 
a lady who had been twice widowed, and was almost 
twice as old as she. The lady, conscious of her 
own loveliness, is not in the least jealous, and sig- 
nifies her intention of visiting Washington to be- 
hold the woman who dares rival her. 

Aunt Bell lives with Kate. Magdalen holds the 
second place in her aflectionate heart, the first being 
still given to the memory of her dead mistress, her 
“ little blue-eyed baby,” as she persists in calling 

her when she speaks of the former Mrs. Heath. 

26 


302 


MAGDALEN THE ENCHANTRESS. 


As Magdalen’s haughty spirit bowed in beautiful 
humility under the afflictions through which she 
had passed, her brilliant beauty changed and soft- 
ened into a holier type of loveliness. She is still 
the “Enchantress;” but her only spells are gentle 
words and generous deeds. 


THE END. 



STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 













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